Those who think of your old Uncle Joel as a sort of aged Fess Parker, a fearless and forthright man’s man, should just skip the first part of this morning’s post.
Truth is I’m mostly a neurotic mess, best left alone in my quiet little gulch. Since I have no driver’s license and the local cops can be presumed to know it, I am extremely reluctant to drive into or even near the small town nearest where I live. Used to be I’d do it sometimes anyway, not always for unavoidably good reason, but for the past three or four years I’ve caught weekly rides with D&L which meant there was almost no reason for me to ever drive the bright yellow Jeep through the Streets of Iniquity. Consequently – as is my wont – I’ve gone from reasonably paranoid to blow-a-blood-vessel paranoid about it on the extremely rare occasions when it can’t practically be avoided.
This morning it couldn’t be avoided. The Jeep absolutely, positively needs new tires. Last week I ordered a set at the local shop, and Thursday the man called to say they’d come in.
It took from then till this morning to work up the nerve. Mind you, I’m aware that there’s virtually nothing to worry about. The Jeep’s registration is up-to-date, all the lights work, it’s even insured and I lubed the driver’s side seat belt retractor so not even the lack of a seat belt would draw a cop’s eye. Hell, my troubles with the local cops happened well over seven years ago, it’s not as if ninjas are waiting for me to cross the border. Right?
Right. I could always find excuses not to do it. I even considered asking a neighbor to drive the Jeep, which would have made the whole transaction completely legal – and completely ludicrous. I’m a grown man, and I’ll buy my own damn tires.
So this morning I hitched up my old-man pants and drove out through the mud to do the deed.
And the new tires didn’t fit the Jeep’s extra-wide rims. So I did all that for nothing. Bother.
In other paranoia news – You know my buddy Ian, right? He of Forgotten Weapons and InRange TV? Well, as you can imagine, Ian is a man of strong opinions on the subject of handguns. And when I described to him the revolver with which I was replacing my old beater Taurus 431, his lip palpably curled. It may fairly be said of Ian that he is not a big Taurus fan, and he couldn’t believe I’d gone out and bought another one.
This morning, out of the blue, he sent me this attempt at gun humor…
Tires, arrggg! I feel your pain. Last year my new snows came in late and I went to get them in a snow storm only to find they were the wrong ones. Half hour drive in through all sorts of ick only to drive home through all sorts of ick.
About Ian, he’s just like the rest of us opinionated gun owners. I too am not a big fan of Taurus but “If it’s stupid and works, it ain’t stupid.” Your Taurus, while not top of the line, is better than what you had.
I have a friend who does not have a DL due to a bureaucratic snafu between two states. He also has a lead foot… He’s been stopped several times but always let go.
However I am not up to date on his adventures.
I guess if one had the unlimited access to all the neat stuff Ian does, one could be a mite persnickety.
😉
I kind of share Ian’s opinion of things Taurus but the Trackers have always seemed to be an exception. I’ve never dealt with a .44 Mag Tracker but a good friend had a .41 Mag Titanium Tracker that I always thought was a superb trail gun.
Also I bought my father a Taurus 1911 when they first came out so that he would quit taking his WWI era Colt to the woods. It too has seemed to be completely adequate.