Chance to buy some expensive air
Since the risk of a seasonal relapse is now very low, I decided to roll out of bed on a weekend at my regular time and head off in search of the elusive tire changer. One of those Canadian things, where we change the rubber feet on all of our cars at precise moments each year, in search of even inflation.
I’ve been a regular client of a local tire shop for about two decades now. The same team of grey-haired fellows would do the change and balance routine in under twenty minutes and I’d be on my way. Except that back during the winter, their building underwent renovations and the corporate sign was replaced. Several weeks ago, a daughter-sign indicated that the tire business was still on site, so I pulled into the parking lot, backed up (close enough to a fire hydrant to water things down if the need arose) and went inside to see where things now stood.
A total change of decor is often a sign that the price point may have changed, but one of the team of young employees quoted a price that didn’t seem to have inflated, if you’ll excuse the pun. The appointment book was full, but if I returned just before lunch we could probably do business. Good enough. Time to go home for coffee and a hot bagel.
I returned at the appointed time to the appropriate place and turned over my car keys (truly things have changed; I wouldn’t get a chance to park the car in a deep pit this time around). As well, I brought a book and took my place in the waiting area and sales room. No wandering around the work zone, checking out the balancing machines, or the tubs of old tire weights, or the maze of air hoses.
The sales area was an eye-opener. I’d always thought that an extra set of rims might be cool. After all, at $49, I would someday be able to afford four good solid steel wheels. Here was another market altogether. Mag wheels – at a price that should have meant silver rather than aluminum. Bicycle racks that were worth taking out extra insurance riders. Stereo systems like the ones in the riceburners I see around the city (same ones that have mag wheels, as it happens). No blue cool lights or gofaster stripes, but I didn’t ask.
My wheel change took about thirty minutes, and with the additions to the bill, my cost was also up 150%. Did I mention that my car now floats on wheels loaded with nitrogen? Just check out the green valve stems. Now I’ll have to find a garage that has a dispenser that does more than pump air, I guess. I resisted the urge to throw down for shiny mags and headed on home.
As it happens, the old team had become just that. Two of the three are retired, and the third is working days only for the next little bit. They did their job well for years, so it is fitting. They’ve thrown the torch to a new generation of young wheelhounds.
