Last week I needed to get air in a tire. That used to be a simple thing but not anymore. There was a time when people could drive up to a service station bay and ask the attendant to check the air, which he did while pumping gas and cleaning windows. That went out seemingly around the end of the Eisenhower administration. In the age of self-service, we had to do it on our own, but at least every station had an available air pump that anyone could just drive up to and use.
Now there’s a cost involved. At one nearby station, I can get my tires checked by an attendant providing I get at least 8 gallons of gas from a certain pump at which the price is marked up 10 cents extra per gallon. That means that the air would cost at least 80 cents.
There are other stations where you can do it yourself, but now you have to pay to get the pump running. I stopped at one of those places, but the pump only takes exact change, in this case 75 cents. Because there was no bill changer, I had to have three quarters, which I did not have, so I moved on as my troubled right tire continued to recede.
Finally I spotted another place, but there were several cars waiting in line, some because of the vacuum cleaner next to the air pump. The drivers of each car had their floor mats spread out on the concrete for cleaning. They were in no hurry. I was.
Next I turned to the big guns. I went to the place where I originally bought the tires to see if they could repair what was an obvious, though easily fixable, leak. “Sorry, we’re full now –– can you leave your car for a few hours?” I couldn’t.
By Friday I was desperate. Before leaving home I gathered what quarters I could find in my change container (a great use for plastic Mardi Gras cups, by the way) and headed for a gas station on Veterans. Amazingly the air pump was unoccupied. The price for air here was an inflated $1, but it didn’t matter. This was a sellers’ market, and I was on the losing end. I drove up, positioned my car just right so that the ailing tire was near the hose, grabbed my stash of quarters and started to put them into the slot, but then the man in a nearby truck started honking. I glanced at him.
“Don’t do that,” he warned.
“Hunh?” I replied poetically.
“Don’t do that,” he warned again, “I tried to use that pump a while ago, and it is broken. You will lose your money.”
At that point losing the quarters didn’t matter much because I hadn’t been able to spend them anyway; nevertheless I thanked the man and moved on.
I can report that later I found a place where someone did take a look at the tire, found a nail puncture but no nail and fixed it for no charge because I was having other mechanical work done. Still, the process was more difficult than it should be. Air exists in abundance; getting some it funneled into a tire should be a simple thing, and how much overhead does it cost a service place to provide air?
Now for the good news: I have decided to go into the air retail business. Order now, and get it boxed and gift-wrapped for any occasion. And if you act quickly, we’ll send you two boxes for the price of one.
NEW: SEE ERROL LABORDE’S MARDI GRAS VIDEO HERE.
Krewe: The Early New Orleans Carnival- Comus to Zulu by Errol Laborde is available at all area bookstores. Books can also be ordered via e-mail at gdkrewe@aol.com or (504) 895-2266)
WATCH INFORMED SOURCES, FRIDAYS AT 7 P.M., REPEATED AT 11:30 P.M. ON WYES-TV, CHANNEL 12. NOW ON WIST RADIO, 690 AM, THE ERROL LABORDE SHOW, 8 A.M. AND 5 P.M. SATURDAYS AND SUNDAYS AND 6 P.M. MONDAYS.