So I did what any desperate person does: I called my dad.

I opened the door. There it was, a little white sticker, baked and peeling but legible:

Then I saw it. The rear left tyre was squattier than a bulldog. Low pressure. Classic Jazz problem.

Here’s the story within the story: I learned that week that under-inflated Jazz tyres cost me 4% more fuel. But over-inflated to 40 psi? The car felt like it was on ice skates. Hit a pothole, and you'd feel it in your teeth.