putting the case to bed

Some stories never end.

Two weeks ago, I had two flats on a trip to the Mexican highlands. One flat is a nuisance. But two flats are the stuff that stories are made of.

When I returned to Barra de Navidad, I was driving on three different sizes of tires. The front tires were fine. But the right rear tire was a spare and the left rear tire was an emergency-buy in Guadalajara to replace one of the flats. And it was an inch larger than the front two tires.

Mixed tires are a safety nerd's nightmare. For good reason. My braking system was thoroughly confused by the combination. I needed new tires. Quadruplets.

Before I could get new tires, though, I had the suspension problem fixed that started this house-that-Jack-built problem. And, then, as you know, I lost two more days getting my battery replaced. (I am still wondering which genius engineer at Ford thought it was a good idea to tuck the battery under the dashboard.)

Then came the easy part. I drove to Manzanillo this morning and left The Great Escape with at a tire shop to be outfitted with four new tires. By the time I returned from Telcel and Office Depot, my SUV was ready to hit the road. Les Schwab could not have been more efficient.

Well, I was ready to hit the road just as soon as I let the cashier ring up $7,472 (Mx) on my credit card -- about $387 (US). That was the most expensive part of this little repair exercise. But it was pesos well-spent.

I almost floated home like a cloud. Well, like a cloud caught in a jet stream. The ride was smooth and fast.

But, as I suspected yesterday, this tale is not yet done. The mechanic invited me to an impromptu walk-around under the car while it was on the lift -- something that should have made a liability insurance attorney wince. The interior of two of the wheels were noticeablly damaged as if a metallic Woody Woodpecker had had his way with them, and a third wheel had a small crack that made it problematic to get a good seal on the bead.

I have known about the crack for almost two years (class photo). A local mechanic discovered it in May 2018 and told me I could pay for a new wheel or I could periodically add some free air to the tire. He called the second option the "Mexican choice." I took it.

But it looks as if time has given me an opprtunity to pick the first option. If I need to replace two wheels, I may as well replace all four. They can wait, though, until I return from India. I need to do a bit of research on where to order a full set.

For now, though, I am considering The Odd Case of the Exploding Tires to be closed.

It is about time to move on to some other area of life's little malfunctions. Maybe the house.