On Being an Ass

3/18/03 @ 1:45 AM

A decade ago(!), I was working in a chain garage/tire shop.   We basically worked on anything that invovled tires, brakes, or suspension.  We also sold tires.  A lot of tires.  How many tires can one store sell, you ask.  Well, I just told ya.  A friggin' lot.  We sold tires at 8:00 AM.  We sold tires at 9:00 PM.  We sold tires on Sunday.  We sold tires on Christmas Eve.  We sold tires on Easter.  You get the picture.

One brutally hot August day, a maroon pickup of Nissan descent and late 80's origin rolls into the shop for a rotate and balance.  R&B's are quick and easy.  It was always nice to see five R&B tickets in line, because it meant that if you hustled, you just might be able to knock 'em out and grab a Coke or a smoke (you won't be getting lunch) before the next wave of tread-worn customers fill the waiting room.

Anyway, I've got it on the lift and about to pop the center-caps off, when I noticed Dude had cut out what I assume were supposed to be circles of iridescent sticker material to cover them.  I use the term 'cut out' loosely, as a hedge trimmer would have given a more precise cut.  Just as I was admiring this handywork, in walked the artist himself, who immediately started talking.  I tried to ignore him and concentrate on finishing the job, but he wouldn't have it.  This guy had more questions than my three year old nephew.  With each question he is turning a five minute R&B into a 30 minute lesson on the physics of rolling traction, and killing any hope I had of a break in the process.  So, in a last ditch effort to shut him up I try the only thing I can think of:  Sarcasm.

"Nice center-caps"

"Thanks.  We get big sheets of those stickers where I work, and I thought that would look pretty cool on my wheels."

Shit.  All hope vanished.  Sigh.  "Yeah, where do you work?"

"Over at the _______ Bicycle plant."

"Hmm."

"Yeah, we get these big 2'x2' sheets of that stuff . . ." He rambled on through the clamor of impacts and hammers about what exactly he did at ______ Bicycle plant.  Don't ask, I wasn't listening.  Finally, I lowered the truck and torqued the lugs.

"You really like them?"

"Huh?"

"You really like the way I did my wheels?"  He was appallingly earnest.

"Yeah, I bet they look really cool with the sun shining on them."  I handed him his keys, and headed for the bathroom before he could suck up any more of my time.

So a few days goes by, I walk in to work one morning, and a salesman tells me Karl stopped by to see me.

"Karl?"

"Yeah.  He left this for you." The salesman hands me three 2 foot squares of iridescent vinyl.  Granted, they weren't really worth much, but I still . . .