Greetings, human readers. I am one of the doughnut tyres found on the cars trending these days. Today, I’m going to share my views and experiences with you all.

This morning, a human slammed on the brakes of a nearby car, and a violent spray of rainbow sprinkles burst from my fellow doughnut tyre onto the concrete road. It was a total glaze of glory. The Boston Cream on the front left had officially blown.

“Brake! Brake! Do-nut let him hit that bumper!”

The powdered doughnut tyre beside me skidded wildly, replacing the usual metallic screech of braking with the messy splat of bursting jelly.

“How many times do I have to push against this tough concrete?” sighed the adjacent tyre. “I’m losing my filling here.”

“The scorching sun isn’t helping either,” groaned the front-right doughnut. “It’s baking us alive. We’re melting into a sweet, gooey mess!”

Fortunately, the morning traffic came to a standstill, giving us a rare chance to chat. Our lives are one endless cycle: spin, spin and spin. It may sound repetitive, but keeping humans safely on the road is an important job.

This was a typical morning rush. Humans always seem to choose two more minutes of sleep instead of getting out of bed on time.

Squeeeezeee!

The brakes cried out as the traffic light finally turned green.

“Thank goodness,” sighed a nearby doughnut. “We’re finally rolling again.”

A massive truck rumbled past on rugged cider-doughnut tyres built for all-terrain snacking — sorry, tracking.

Long commutes are never easy. Potholes are our biggest enemy. One wrong bump can leave one of us flattened. It’s a dog-eat-doughnut world out here!

While the others rolled off to work, I waited quietly in the driveway for my master. He was late. Naturally. Procrastination was practically his favourite hobby. But today was different.

Ali had an important job interview that could change his family’s future.

Suddenly, he rushed out of the house, glanced over me and my fellow pastries with relief, jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed his foot on the accelerator. He was really pushing us to the crumb-line.

What followed was pure chaos: confectionery smoke, caramelised friction, constant thumping against the asphalt and the sweet, yeasty smell of high-speed travel.

Then disaster struck. My partner suddenly went flat.

In our world, a flat tyre isn’t just a puncture; it’s a complete structural disaster. Perhaps the scorching road had melted away our sprinkles, or maybe something sharp had torn through the dough. Whatever the cause, we were riding on the bare rim.

Ali had only seconds to decide. Should he keep driving or pull over and replace the ruined jelly doughnut with the spare bagel waiting in the boot?

He chose the bagel.

Jumping out of the car, Ali hurried to change the tyre. In all the commotion, his crisp white T-shirt was splattered with sticky cream oozing from the burst doughnut. Still, he didn’t give up. On the shoulder of the busy highway, he successfully replaced the ruined pastry with the sturdy bagel.

Against all odds, Ali reached his destination.

He stepped out of the car looking slightly sticky and smelling faintly of yeast and panic, but he had made it.

Published in Dawn, Young World, August 8th, 2026