So boys and girls... last we saw our hapless hero...
On the way into Tucumcarie, we came upon an old Stuckeys... now relegated to
selling the finest in Mexican and Indian souveniers. I managed to cop a
local phone book, and wrote down the names of every service station, tire
dealer, and truckstop in it. I figured we'd have a head start when we got to
town. First call, to the truck tire place at the other end of town yields
good news. They've got 2 brand new trailer tires, in my size...$93 a piece.
Not the best price in the world maybe... you have to remember you can nearly
see the end of the earth from Tucumcarie, NM.. and it's a Sunday. But, alas,
they have no rims.
Another call yields the possibility of two used rims at the Texaco station.
"$25 each." Again... maybe a little steep... but we're next to nowhere, on a
Sunday, and my trailer and what's left of the new Red Rat tub are sitting on
the interstate, 20 miles back in the other direction... with vultures flying
overhead, no doubt. As I pull in there, I'm greeted by some bandito that
last brushed his (remaining) teeth back when Rt. 66 went thru the center of
town. It was almost like each tooth had its own little "scum sweater". (Yes,
I know... this mental image will haunt you, as it has haunted me...)
3 out of 4 of the stores, restaurants, service stations, and motels in this
town are boarded up or abandoned... the place has died, and nobody told the
folks that stuck around.
Anyway... Mr Bandito drags one rim from the old used tire rack outside. (I
had visions of my youth when there still were service stations, and old guys
ran them named "Hank" who had dirt in the crevices of his hands that
sandblasting couldn't clean... and they asked if you wanted regular or
Ethyl, and they took particular pride in washing your windows. This place
was nothing like that.) Then, we mosey on over to his pick up truck, where
he digs out another scabby old rim. He pronounces both of these exactly what
I'm looking for.... "Chevy... large bolt pattern." "So, ya got any tires?" I
ask him? (Dumb question.) The one rim had the most clapped out bald on the
edges, bulging sidewalls, dry rotted piece of shit I'd ever seen...that was
one of his tires. The second, in equally fine condition, is dragged out from
behind some garbage in the service bay.
"Whatcha want for the rims?"
"$150, for tires and rims." Now, this crap had to have been found at the
side of the road somewhere. I point out the outside edges on the one tire
are worn to the cord, and the other is dry rotted "mucho baddo". "Oh no", he
says... "it'll ride here on the center, where there's still tread left".
"Ok.. I don't want the tires... how much for just the rims?" Now you (and I)
both know the answer that's comin...
"No, I can't sell just the rims man... I'd just have to go out and find... I
mean "buy" 2 more." At this point, I'm about willing to say "F it"... and
we'll take our chance with what undoubtedly will be a local motel with
pecker tracks on the sheets, and bugars behind the headboard... and we'll
just wait until the real tire dealer opens Monday. "I'll pass." , I say...
hoping I don't regret it... knowing of I have to come back there, the price
will go even higher.
We continue down the "boulevard", which truly once was Rt. 66 that ran
straight thru town. I spy another service station that looks like its owned
by Sanford & Son. We almost drive bay, when signs of life appear under the
hood of a pick up. A stop there yields 2 rims... $15 each. Yee hah!, now if
the truck tire place indeed has the new tires, we're gonna be on our way. A
stop at the local NAPA nets us a lug wrench, and a new trailer light to
replace one of the two that gave up its life when the tire escaped. The
truck tire place is happy to sell me the $93 a piece trailer tires, and I
watch as the guy dismounts the shit tires (which were better than the $150
variety from Mr. Bandito) on my $15 rims with spoons... by hand, ya know?
First one's a bit of a struggle. Second one slips on way too easy... turns
out its a 14" rim. I happily take my one new tire mounted, and my other new
tire (unmounted) and head back to Sandford and Son, and get my $15 back
after returning his 14" rim.
By now, I'm pretty damn sure I'm gonna get it all back together, and I make
sure I beep the horn on the way out of town so Mr. Bandito can see my middle
finger raised defiantly. 20 miles back to the trailer. No vultures, the
Sprite's still on it. In 5 minutes, I have the tire on, everything put
away... and we're rollin' down the road.
Stay tuned for Part 3 (which includes a lesson in "jungle fever"...
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