I hate advice

People telling me what they think I oughta do. “Ya know, Gloomy, you really need to…” and so on, etcetera, blah, blah, blah…

I don’t want to hear what I oughta do. Shit. I already lost the HIGH ACHIEVER DEAL.

I’m probably gonna end up DYING sooner or later.

I lost the live forever deal.

On the other hand, I won the three score and ten deal.

When I turned Seventy I said to myself, you made it, man! You made it! And the best part of it is, you didn’t need to do anything to achieve this sterling achievement.

All you had to do is keep breathing.

I figured it out all by myself.

I said to myself, if you just keep breathing you’ll make it to Seventy…

And it worked.

It was easy as doing the Hand Jive.

I need to thank Way Out Willie…

Whoever he is.

My Other Achievements

I’m trying to think.

What else have I achieved?

I know there’s a lot I’ve achieved.

At the moment nothing much is coming to mind.

Come on now. Think, Gloomy. Think!

It’s important to have a list of achievements handy just in case THE FINAL JUDEMENT catches you unaware.

I need to make a list.

An Achievement List…

Write everything down on a small sheet of notepaper.

Or a fridge sticky.

List my achievements.

Clutch the list as I sleep.

That way, if I die in my sleep, I’ll have the list Handy.

For the Final Judgement.

Michelangelo painted the Final Judgement on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome.

That was quite an achievement!

I can’t think

Thing is, I got all this shit going on in my head.

Stuff I need to do.

I almost made a list!

Just now. I almost made a list. Good thing I came to my senses.

I have trouble getting things done.

I’m not a high achiever.

Shit. I’m not even a low achiever…

Best not to think about it.

Admit failure.

Give up for today…check out some old videos on youtube just to pass the time…

I don’t know, man.

Did you watch the whole thing?

It got violent there at the end.

Quentin Tarantino could’ve choreographed it.

One thing I can’t put off

I gotta change this tire.

It’s only one tire.

But look at it.

I’ve been driving around on it. Thinking about changing it. Seeing how far I can go. What do you think? Maybe it’s time I changed this tire. I could have a blow out on the freeway. Doing sixty on the freeway and all of a sudden this tire blows. I could die in a accident thanks to this bad tire, defeating my goal of dying in my sleep. Die from a tire blow out…and where’s my life achievement list? Stuck back there on my fridge.

I think I better change this tire!

I’m at Tim’s Treads

The Mexican Tire Shop I usually go to didn’t have any used tires in my size. Friggin Priuses are hard to match. They wanted to sell me a new tire for 150 bucks.

“That’s the best you can do?”

“Maybe 140?”

These Mexican Used Tire Shops. They’ve caught on. They don’t sell tires cheap anymore.

“Thing is, Edwardo, I don’t need a brand new tire. My opposite tire’s old. I put this tire on it wont match the old tire.”

“Maybe buy two new tires?”

“Yeah…I’ll look around. Get back to you.”

He understands. He thinks the same way I do…

So I’m driving around. I don’t know where to go. But I end up down on Francisco blvd. where they got a lot of light industry and a few auto mechanic backrooms. I’m thinking I’ll stumble onto a tire shop.

And what do you know! I find one.

This place is perfect. The owner, Tim, a dude about my age. He checks his inventory on the computer. Doesn’t fine my size. But then he climbs the stairs and looks through his stacks and comes back down with a tire. “This one’s got lots of tread. 60 Bucks!”

“Sold!” I cry.

I’m thinking 2 years ago Edwardo sold me my two front tires for fifty bucks apeice.

Two years of inflation. I figure 60’s a bargain.

For once Yelp get’s it right

Yelp gives him heaps of stars and dozen’s of glowing reviews. Everybody loves Tim’s Treads. For once Yelp gets it right. Tim’s a good guy….

We talk a bit while they fit my new used tire. Tim turns seventy in January. Had kids late. Three daughters. Youngest one’s nineteen. They are all star athletes. Attending various colleges.

The office and waiting room’s walls are festooned with photographs of Tim’s kids. He’s got all his achievements on the wall. But I like the space. Feels good.

I take a seat next to another old duffer, waiting for a tire inspection.

Breaking The Ice

He looks to be about my age.

I grab the empty chair next to him.

“How you doing?” I say.

I’m usually the first to say how you doing. I don’t know why. I’ve been like that my whole life. Seventy god damned years I’ve been saying HOW YOU DOING to perfect strangers. Not when I was six months old or even a year old. Not that early. I’m talking from the time I was around three or four. To be honest, I can’t remember that far back. But as far back as I can remember I’ve been saying HOW YOU DOING to perfect strangers.

He brightens right up. “Just fine,” he says, “how are you?”

“Oh, I’m terrific,” I say. “Other than being old. I’m an old fart. That part’s kind of a drag.”

He chuckles. “You are not so old.”

He’s got a bit of an accent. Like he’s been living here for fifty years but a trace of the accent remains.

“I’m Seventy.”

“I have you beaten. I am seventy three.”

“What about Tim?”

“Sixty Nine,” Tim says from behind the counter.

“We’re a club! The Old Farts club. Next year Tim can join our club!”

“Never,” Tim says. “My wife is fifty five.”

“Wow! That’s the ticket!”

Now we’re all fast friends.

Ali’s story

Tim darts out to his back room. I’m sitting here with the duffer. I figure I’ll make some conversation. Mainly because I’m feeling good. I found a tire for sixty bucks and that’s like…like an achievement. I’m feeling pretty damned good. So I tell this dude how I stumbled onto Tim’s Treads. How I only needed one tire because the other tire’s also old and why buy two brand new tires. He’s looking at me like maybe he’s thinking sad fucker can’t afford a set of brand new tires?

“So what kind of business are you in?” I ask him.

“Oh, I’m retired. Last year.”

“That’s great. Now you can relax and enjoy life!”

“Yes. It was wonderful. I was so looking forward to it. And it came. And it was wonderful. But then my oldest son drowned.”

“Oh my God.”

“Christmas Eve. I can’t get over it. Everything is ruined.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“I’m so sorry…”

“I have another son. His younger brother. Every day I thank god I have him…”

His oldest son. Thirty six years old. He’s out fishing on San Pablo Bay. Fog rolls in. He can’t find the dock. They figure he hit a pilon and flipped his boat. Tim knows all about it. Tim’s employee was best friends with Ali’s son. They all go way back.

“It took 8 weeks to find his body.”

“I’m so sorry. Truly I am.”

I am! He seems so nice, Ali. He’s born in Lebanon.

“Beirut,” he says.

“I had a friend visited Beirut back in the sixties. He said it was beautiful.”

Ali nods. “The Paris of the Middle East. But no more. The politicians have ruined it.”

Soon we’re talking about the situation over there.

As we talk I notice his cheeks are damp.

No other sign of emotion.

“Listen,” he says suddenly. “You are a good man.”

“Well, I’m not. But thanks.”

“No really. You are a good man and I want to do something for you. Let me pay for your tire.”

“No, no, no.”

“Yes. I want to pay for your tire.”

“No, I can’t let you do that. I’m honored you shared your son’s tragedy. Let me give you my number and we can talk again soon.”

He keeps insisting he wants to pay for my tire.

“Listen Ali. I already paid for my tire.”

“You paid already?”

“Yeah, yeah…I gave Tim cash. Now I want you to give me your number and we leave it at that.”

“You are a good man,” he says.

I got his number

Will I call him some day? Probably not. I’m a greeter. I’m not a relationship developer. What made me a good salesman: I was good at making friends quickly…then, just as quickly, dumping them. Had I spent time building relationships I would be a wealthy man today.

I’m a quick sale kind of guy.

Am I a good man?

That’s one for the peanut gallery.

I come awake at three a.m. aboard Scruffy.

Scruffy needs upgrades. I’m not up to it. Like I told you at the beginning of this Post. I’m not an achiever. I’m not even a low achiever.

I’ve always been this way…get my share and run.

But now I’m thinking of yesterday. Of Tim Treads. It was a hell of a day. And now I got this brand new used tire. I can drive around now without dreading a blowout.

I can die in my sleep. And maybe it’s okay, having no achievements to show.

Maybe all the breathing I’ve done counts.

I should just keep breathing and leave it at that!

What do you think?