Friday, February 13, 2009

Squealing Tires

I spent three hours in the tire and automotive place waiting. It was way past time to replace the two front tires on my automobile. Every time I pulled into the new parking lot of the Walgreens in our one light town, the bald tires on my car would squeal.

Heads turn looking for that young hot rod burning rubber.. and instead they would see me. Their gray heads tilt to the left and a puzzled look comes over their faces. You could just tell what they are thinking.."Hrumph, ain't she a bit old to be poppin' a wheely? Not too smart either...it's broad daylight!"

After making sure I got every bit of tread off of the tires that I possibly could, I broke down and spent half the day at the tire and automotive shop. I read all of their magazines...twice. I bought a miniature pecan pie from a little boy who came in fund raising for his church. I couldn't resist, he was about 6, called me 'Mam' and looked so hopeful, I had to give him a dollar. Besides, he pronounced pecan - "pee can." The South is divided over the pronunciation of our famous trees. I say puh-con with half of my state. And the other half of our state pronounces it like an uncouth term for 'toilet'... pee-can.

Finally, the guy motions me to the desk, gives me the bill, waits for my heart attack to subside, then he goes in for the kill, "Yer battree (sounds like "baa tree" ) been givin ya'll any trouble? Cause we play the radio while we're fixin' the tires (all 3 hours, I suppose) .. and the battree went dead. Ya'll want us to put you another battree in cause that's one's bad. That there is a sure sign that its dying if the radio runs out tha juice. It'll cost ya another $100."

Shaking my head "NO" I left quickly. None of the tires squealed on the way home.

This is for your amusement... keep your eye on the grasshopper.


Keep the Faith , Amy

2 comments:

Martha said...

I hopped over here after reading your comment on Christine's blog. I think I just may make a return trip. :)

Here in the north bald tires are a killer, literally. Gotta have tread or there's no stopping on those slick roads. Too bad we can't ship our "slightly" used tires to ou folks down south.

And yes, God is THE answer for everyone. So sad that by the time many find out it will be too late.

Martha said...

Return trip to your bolg, that is. I always visit Christine.