Miles on Tires

Me to Scott, “What do you think about the tires?  I haven’t checked the pressure lately.”  Scott, “Should be fine.  Don’t worry about it.”  Me to Mom, “What do you think about the tires?  Scott checks the pressure and I don’t know….”  Mom, “They look fine but we should be able to find a truck stop that has people that can help us check them.”  700+ miles later… still no truck stop with a 1950s crew of mechanics that leap out and check the tires (and the oil and wash the windshield… where is New Jersey when you need it?!?!).  Me to my brother, “Everything is good… but what do you think about the tires?”  Him, “Do they mushroom at the bottom?”  Me, “No.”  Him, “Should be ok… don’t worry too much about it.”

You know that feeling you get?

I couldn’t take it any more.  I had to have them checked by someone.  If I’m being honest, pretty much any dude that looked mechanically inclined would have done.  Sexist much?!  Yup.  You got me.  I’m a big sexist woman and that’s ok.

Fortunately, I’ve lived in South America.  Therefore, when we were passing this place I did a double take.  This looks like Tire Palace to me.  This screams “people who could fix a tire with a piece of gum, rawhide and some yarn… McGuyver style”.  Oh hell yes.  Yes yes yes.


I handed my phone to Mom, told her to grab a few photos, and headed out the door to explain my ignorance to these tire gods and beg them for some help.  I started with, “Hello Sir.  This is going to sound stupid {Evie, ‘You can’t say stupid’} but this is my RV and I don’t know how to check the tire pressure.  Is this a service you offer?  Could you help me?”

Ugh… can you even imagine what he was thinking?  I can.  It’s not appropriate for the blog.  I’m fine with that.  When you play the damsel card, there are certain unpleasant realities that come along with it.  Help me check the tires and you can think whatever you want, Sir.  It’s a even trade.  Hasta la vista, pride.


He checked the front tires (the ones I was really worried about).  Then he checked the rear tires.  The outer ones (the ones I can see) were fine.  The inner ones were “very bad”.  While filling them (which took an scary long time) his boss came over and said, “So… how long have you been running with no air?”  Yup… ok…. I deserve this.  Anyone with a vehicle should know how to check the damn tires.  Me, “Too long.”  Him, “Don’t worry. I helped a lady at the rest area last week who had 35 lbs in each of hers.”  Awesome… now I’m in the same category as Dumb Lady.

The guy tried not to charge me. I slipped him a $10 and thanked him for his time.  The next time you’re at the Tonopah exit on Rt 10 in Arizona I highly recommend Tire Store immediately on the right next to the gas station.

As for those photos mom was supposed to be getting?  I hit the nail on the head before.  I think the words are…. bridge too far.  I took the 2 above.  Here are hers:





Asking Evie for help:



Finally, the place we boondocked the night before (33.4646, -113.0432).  The reviews are great and it was as nice as suggested.  There’s something special about a desert sunset.  Incredible.



If you notice the tire tracks… yes…. you got me… I drove through the fire pit trying to get us set up.  I’m thankful for having a decent clearance.















Traci Warren