Tire Store Heroes (Ode to Les Schwab)

      I can't hit the road without the tire store heroes.  You know them.  They hustle, grin and greet you like they are sincerely delighted to have the company of you and your tires.
       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.