Re-tired

Three years ago, I moved to Las Vegas, and I took my first trip to Utah for a family event. I drove my car north along I-15 and, when I stopped for gas in a small town mid-way, I was lured and landed like a giant trout by the guys who worked at the tire dealership attached to the gas station. They totally convinced me that my tires would not make it the few hundred miles of my journey. Those tires were unsafe and not what they'd want their mother or sister to be driving on. And they cleaned my windows while sizing me up for the kill. I practically jumped over the side of their boat into into the fish-well without a net. I would NEVER have fallen for this line in, say, Indiana or Kansas. But when I got the hard-sell from a guy named "Nephi" in central Utah, I was a pushover. The only hesitation on his part was when I said, "You wouldn't be lying to a missionary's mother, would you?" His head did a little jerk, and as he lifted down the new tire from the rack said, "Oh, are you LDS?" So, perhaps his conscience isn't entirely dead, or perhaps it was just one of those reflexes that cadavers can have.

Anyway, most of you know this story. I had several hours to think, and realized I'd been suckered, plus the "new" tires were cheap imports compared to my brandname ones. When I stopped on the return trip to ask them to return my used tires, the manager immediately caved, offering (without prompting) to return my money, and remount my old tires, without my even insisting on this plan of action. It was the behavior of a guilty man. So, I sat around and watched this group of vipers, disguised as kindly men helping tourists, and noticed that they never approached the locals who pulled up for gas in a large truck with Utah plates. Only old people with out of state plates (my were Maryland) or women traveling alone (ta da), or other vulnerable types, were cast a line with the wiggly worm of worry attached. The worst case I witnessed was the family with the mom in a wheelchair, and the older teen son driving. Big jerks sold them new tires, too.

Anyway, today, almost three years exactly, I bought new tires to replace those "dangerous" tires, finally. I still feel motivated to buy one of the billboards on I-15 as you approach this tiny town and warn motorists not to believe the dire-tire-tale. What a bunch of liars.

PS: Beaver, Utah, 1st Shell Station, northbound side of I-15 as you approach from the south. Go ahead, sue me.