The Case of the $400 Tire...

I got the tire on.  I'm not sure yet if I've destroyed it in doing so.  I won't probably know until it comes apart at high speed, pitching me into a series of bloody gymnastics across the freeway.  But, you know, whatever.  Wait, what do I write to reassure my mother here?  Uhh...  I've got nothing.

I got the tire on finally, then had to take it off again, because my patch didn't hold on the old tube.  I replaced it with the new one I bought for it.  Actually, only one of the new ones I bought for it.  The first was the wrong size, and I can't return it.  Maybe I'll make a hat out of it.

My mistake was that I was failing to push the bead down into the well of the rim, giving it the extra room necessary to get the last bit over the lip of the rim.  Foolish of me.  It's kind of made not to make it over that bit of rim when the bead is set.

Anyway, you may be saying to yourself, "Why $400?  Are the fibers in the sidewalls of the tire made of gold thread?  Does the tire have nanorobots in it that assess the road surface in real time and change the shape and consistency of the rubber to maximize grip while minimizing rolling resistance?  Is it made from rubber recycled from the wheels on Elvis Presley's pink Cadillac convertible?"

Nope.

This is the rundown of the cost of the tire:

The Tire = $80
The Shipping = $10
The Air Compressor and Tire Slime = $20
The First (too small) Tube = $10
The Second (just right) Tube = $15
The 27mm Socket to Remove the Axle Nut = $5
The C Clamp for Breaking the Bead = $10
The Tire Irons = $10
The Fee for Retrieving My Truck After it was Towed Because I Needed to Put it Somewhere While I was Working on the Bike in the Garage and Foolishly Chose the Church Parking Lot Which I Didn't Know had Cars Towed on Saturday Night to Assure there is Room for Ward Members on Sunday Morning = $240

I know there were signs warning of towing, but I'd never actually seen anyone get towed.  There are cars in the lot every day of the week.  I think I'd parked there overnight before.  And I felt somewhat justified in parking there as it is my ward building.  Surely I'm a valid user.  So what if I parked there 12 hours early for my ward block.

When I walked over for church in the morning the truck was gone.  It was a familiar sinking feeling I've gotten pretty much every time I go to use it, ever since it got stolen out of my garage a few months ago.  But this time I was thinking maybe it would be better if it was stolen.  There weren't any tools or a stereo in it this time that could be taken and pawned.  And since the truck isn't worth much of anything in and of itself, the most likely scenario was that they'd use up the $60 of gas in the tank and ditch it, like last time.  I was pretty sure that the loss of  $60 was going to be less than the ransom if it had been towed.

I'd been booted once before, (ironically again at a church function) and so discovered the commonality between towing companies and Somali Pirates.  It's astounding to me that the state authorizes this kind of business.  In this example, the church has to pay a monthly retainer to a guy who operates out of a camper behind three gates in an industrial lot without a sign in Murray, who for that cash, occasionally comes and kidnaps people's cars and holds them for ransom.  And they get to charge absurd fees.  They're guaranteed by law.  I looked it up.  Astounding.  It's like the state and private entities co-opted The Shining Path, pays them a monthly wage, but get's nothing in return.  Except I guess their parking spaces back.

I wouldn't feel as bad if the church was getting the money for the towing itself.  That would probably seem pretty sketchy to me, but to have my tithing dollars going to giving me the opportunity to have my car legally stolen?  It seems somehow perverse.

Oh well.  What can you do?

The replacement for the front tire on my bike arrived by UPS today.  Time for round two.  Heaven help me.

Tears of Rage...

I'm calling this shot, "The Architecture of Despair".  I'm not kidding.  I'm feeling really horrible about this.  I have been trying for the last 16 hours to get this tire onto this rim.  Seriously.  16 hours.  And I'm really afraid that I'm ruining the tire, for all my efforts.

There are a couple things I think I might learn from this experience.  I mean, whenever I end up in a situation like this I try to comfort myself with the idea that it must be a life lesson.  And these are my ideas about this one.

First, I might not be a person who can do this tire on this rim.  If I believe this, then it would be a huge shift in the way I look at the world.  I've always felt that anyone can do anything.  I've thought that people are born with specific talents and capabilities, but that if someone put in the time and effort, that they can do what anyone else can do.  I mean, I think some things aren't worth the effort of becoming, and as a kind of verbal shorthand we can say that is something we can't do.

For example, it is extremely unlikely that I would ever run faster than Usain Bolt.  He's been born with talents and capabilities that I haven't.  Theoretically, in my mind, I could do it.  But since it is so ridiculously unlikely, I might as well just say I can't.  And I've chosen that limitation, so I have to be held responsible for it.  That's a huge thing to me.  We're always responsible for the limitations we choose.  I usually feel like it is a sin to choose a limitation, and that the chooser must be held responsible.  Fortunately, I'm quite happy to be held responsible for not working to become faster than Usain Bolt.  The only consequence I must suffer for choosing that limitation is that I run slower than some other guy that probably works really hard, but is also just naturally a lot better runner than I am.  I don't care about running anyway.  I don't feel compelled to run faster than anyone else, (or to run at all, if I'm honest), so it is a penance I can happily bear.

However, I've found this idea largely to be true in my life.  I mean, everything I've set out to do I've either come to the point of frustration where I realize that the thing isn't worth the effort it would take to do, or I've accomplished it.

But what if that isn't true?  What if there are things that some people can do that other people actually can't do?  At all.  Ever.  I find the idea really disturbing.  I know people are created differently, but want to believe they're basically equal.  If there are people who can't do some things that others can then they're not equal.  Maybe I'm overblowing the distinction.  But it bothers me.

I guess I should like it as much as I dislike it.  It would mean potentially that some of my attributes are uniquely valuable.  But I think I've liked the idea of being no one for the last ten years.  At least I've taken advantage of it.  If I'm no one, I don't need to feel guilty about failing to distinguish myself.  That was my primary motivation in life when I was in high school.  But when it became obvious afterward that I was very unlikely to distinguish myself in any way, it became comforting to think that I wasn't anyone, but no one else was either.

Anyway, the second point was a little more positive, and it was a correlative.  It's that maybe some things you can do for yourself are worth paying someone else to do.  I've also kind of come to the point of feeling like that is sinful too.  I tend to feel like if you can do for yourself, and you let someone else do it you are taking advantage of them.  Which is wrong.  And if you can do for yourself, but pay someone else to do it, you're lazy.  Which is wrong.

But I've wasted two days on this that I can't really afford to waste, and I might be ruining the tire.  Maybe it really is worth paying someone else to do it.  Even if I can do it for myself.

Probably it's all irrelevant.  I'd better get back to it.