The Tire Rebellion: How I Almost Didn't Make It To Austin

Well the gigantic upheaval happened. Essentially, we threw all of my stuff up in the air, and somehow it all sort of landed at one address in Austin (sort of). I wish this were as fun as it sounds- lofting furniture and boxes into the stratosphere like ballistic bombs or pianos only for them to return nicely, softly, unharmed to the ground. Articles of clothing arcing in a steady stream across the Texas landscape in an array of colors (I'm imagining I sorted them by color, so they make a nice spectrum as they go through the air). My CDs raining down in the front yard of my current address like a prize give-away that I ALWAYS wanted to be apart of (and of course, none of them hurting anyone with their sharp edges, and no one stealing them once they're there).

The reality of the move was a lot of sweat, grunting, a storage unit and two vehicles making the two hour trek. And the whole trip was really pretty normal and boring, save for one particular thing: my tires.

Let me update you. You see, the tires on my cute and sassy little Mariah--

Yes, I name my cars. Yes, I named the current car Mariah. Yes, please sing the line from the song now. "They call the wind Mariah." Do it right now.

Done? Ok good. Now you've done it and we can be done with that. I named her Mariah because if you've seen her, she looks like a Mariah, not because of the song (or the singer, in case you were about to make THAT joke). All cars names are based solely on the personality of the vehicle and have nothing to do with people with the same names (sometime I will tell you about the absolutely fabulous Eleanor, may she rest in peace).

ANYWAY. The tires on Mariah. Apparently, sometime during the summer, the four troublesome tires of Mariah were tired of being attached to her. I'm not quite sure why they didn't like the arrangement. I mean, they had seen some pretty awesome country, only one time had I run over the curb with them, and only very infrequently did I skid to stops. I'm pretty nice to tires. And at the base of it, they were tires. What else did they think they were gonna do- get feature roles (pun intended) in an allstar, all-tire adaptation of The Wizard of Oz that would flop massively but live on to become a cult classic? Yeah, good try guys. You're tires.

Well, little did I know, my tires were gonna make a break for it. Hollywood or bust (again, please enjoy the awful pun), I imagine they said.

Only they had a small little problem. Being tires, they had no thumbs. And in case no one has ever pointed it out, it's a reeeeeeeaaaal good idea to have thumbs when taking a tire off of a car. Never mind that they were the ones attached to the car in the first place, there was the whole no thumb issue. Which meant they were stuck on my car until I decided they were freed.

Naturally, the tires began to resent me. They began to make my car wobble when I drove it over 50 mph. Needless to say, I was concerned but being the poor performer that I am, shaking car was still a running car, so it wasn't that bad. Yet.

We continued on in this antagonistic manner for a bit. I was England and they were the colonies. I would tell them (in Standard British) "I do wish you would cease with that frightful shaking."

And they would taunt me back (a la Sarah Palin) "We'll keep shakin if we wanna. We're Ameri-Cans, you betcha!"

The mavericks. The rebels.

I was unhappy with the situation, but I held the upper hand: thumbs. And I think things would have been fine, but then the unexpected happened: a friend of mine had a blow out. Like any friend would, I went to help her deal with it.

And thats when the tires decided that if I wasn't going to take them off because I wanted to, they would force me to take them off because I had to.

I was oblivious. After seeing my friends tire savagely destroyed, I thought "goodness, I don't want to see that happen to my tires" so I decided to take them to get looked at so they would stop shaking. Only, by the time I got them to guy to look at them, there dasterdly work was already done.

They had shed almost all their rubber. The front ones were better than the back at it- there was steel coming out of the front two.

My choices were grim- continue driving and have them explode like my friends or buy new ones.

I thought of the driving I had ahead of me and I chose to replace the front two. I could almost hear them laughing haughtily as I paid the man at the tire place, knowing they had won and I had suffered. The tire man assured me that the back ones would probably last a few more months and that it was better to have replaced them now then having to deal with them on the open road. I agreed, but in my heart, all I could think about was the pitiful state that my bank account was then in.

On the drive home, the shaking was gone. I felt a little better about my purchase. And my back tires were behaving. Or so I thought.

A few days later, after a long show in the canyon, I was backing out of my spot and a colleague of mine stopped me. "Dude, your tire is flat." I got out of my car and looked at the back tire and he was right. I was pretty sure I heard those tires sniggering at me. It was 11:30 in a canyon with no cell reception and no light to speak of. They had scored again. Aaron: 0 Tires:2.

Two mornings later (because they timed it so no one would be out in the canyon the next day, so I couldn't get a ride out to put the spare on, those bastards) I got a ride out to the canyon and put the spare on and drove it along at 55 mph for about an hour to the tire place. I thought I was going to have to buy new tires then and there. Lord, spare my wallet.

I was wrong. It was just a nail. The tire guys patched it and sent me on my way. For free. I felt like I'd won the lottery. I talked to my back tires. I said to them "Listen guys. I know we've had our troubles in the past, but let's just start over. I've got a big bit of driving coming up and I'd be really really grateful if you'd just not go flat or explode or anything during the trip. Ok?"

And I really thought they were agreed. I did.

The trip to Kansas and then to Houston went so well. They were wonderful. I couldn't ask for better tires. I guess the front two were putting on a good example and the back two were inspired to good behavior. Life was as it should be.

BUT THEN

(this feels like the longest post of my life, but this story is a little bit epic, and we're at the final twist!)
Picture it: we've packed up and driven all of the stuff that's going into the storage unit. I've locked the door and stopped to get my smoothie for the road. Both Mariah and the other vehicle are stuffed with my belongings. Off we go.

Fast forward about an hour and a quarter. After much hemming and hawing, I'm finally beginning to get excited about the move to Austin. We're about 45 minutes from our goal. I'm driving down a stretch of road that appears clear.

All of a sudden, the car makes some crazy pseudo-birthing noise, and behind me I see black tire rubber fading into the distance. But the car is still running smoothly. No noises, no listing. With a sinking heart, I pull over and get out of the car.

That tire. That blasted effing tire. The back right tire literally peeled the rubber off of itself and threw it away. The tire is still inflated, but it has no rubber. My car is *stuffed* with things. I feel like I'll never make it to Austin. I suddenly know that was there plan all along- to keep me from getting where I wanted to go. I hear it's triumphant laugh. I know it's over now- they won.

Almost 2 hours later, I rolled into Austin on a spare tire. Two days later, I replaced the back two tires. It was a sad day, and as a result, my bank account might have a grande mal seizure if I make purchases of that size any time soon.

The good news is, all of the old tires are gone. I have 4 new tires that are performing quite nicely and happily. And I'm getting settled into Austin.

I'll not forget, however, the rebellious tires that tried valiantly to keep me from arriving here. And next time, I'll be ready for their crafty work. You may have won this time, tires. But justice always triumphs in the end.