Friday, October 18, 2013
Tire Store Heroes (Ode to Les Schwab)
Being at the tire store is to me the perfect Zen experience. The quick movements of the white-shirted guys, the smell of the tires n' popcorn and the chatter of the clerks will send me into a state of enlightenment. I'm here. I'm in the presence of competence, wisdom and joy. I need not worry about the future. They have that handled for me. I don't think of the past. Nothing that I can do about that rubber left on the road. I am just here, mindful.
I took this photo of tires on Christmas Day of last year. Neither trams or buses run in London on Christmas Day, so I took a walk while the lamb roasted. I could have taken a photo of holiday lights, but I took this photo of tires instead. Wouldn't it take a God to reach down into that pile of woven tires and pluck out just the one you wanted? A miracle. Well, a tire hero could do it. Perform a miracle.
And the beauty of it. Nothing even wasted. These tires are getting ready to be reborn, a new configuration, and a new life. A pile celebrating. 'Tis a spiritual event of little significance, but an unexpected sign of rebirth on Christmas day.
Check off more items on the travel list. Tires, struts, boots. Check, check, check. Maybe I should take a tire hero with me as a talisman.
I catch myself praying that my tires will protect me, save me, take me through the storm. Surely there is a God of Tires. I'll just leave a little check at the tire shrine for the God of Tires. Alms for the tire heroes.