A Poem

My son reminded me that I had intended to get gas in Amarillo. He was eight, I let him know that Dumas was only fifteen miles up the road and we would have no problem making that. I am a professional driver, I know what I'm doing.

I put the fam well off the highway and told them I would be back quickly, stuck out my thumb, and watched a dozen cars go by. No one seemed interested in helping a guy out so I tried a different approach. I stood behind my eight year old, had him put out his little thumb and the first car that came along slammed on his brakes. After returning my boy to the safety of his mom I jumped in with that guy and we headed North.
"Thanks for the ride man, I tried to tell that kid of mine that if we tried for Dumas we wouldn't make it."
"No problem, lucky for you I was at a pastor's conference in Amarillo this morning. The Lord must have known you would need some help. I'm Reverend Arnoldson. Isn't it wonderful how the Lord puts people in the right place to help someone?"

The guy went on and on. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the ride but a guy can only stand a harp for so long. That was the longest fifteen miles I ever had to endure. He let me out at the gas station, I borrowed a can and put five bucks worth in it. This young dude was standing by the pump and I asked him if he was going South.
"No f'n problem man, sit your ass in my f'n rig and let's f'n go. He f'n drove me the fifteen f'n miles back to my car. I got out and he turned around and went straight back to f'n Dumas. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the ride but fifteen miles is a long f'n way with a guy like that.

My son asked about the people I rode with. I told him they were exactly the same. Two people who, when seeing a guy needed a hand, didn't hesitate to help. I reminded him of the adage about judging books by their covers.

If I ever get a book published and they ask me about the cover art, I'm going to let them know I've been around, I've seen some things. It's what's on the inside that counts but as far as books are concerned, the cover needs to be awesome. Maybe it should say something about being sure to gas up in Amarillo.

Driving tip: If you look at your car when it's sitting in a parking lot you will notice the tires bulge out a little on the bottom. The less air, the bigger the bulge. As the tire turns it flexes. The tire knows it needs to keep the bulge on the bottom. Flexing causes heat. Bigger bulge = more heat. That's right. This is about math.
If you 2 pie r your tire, you can figure out how far it travels per revolution. You can simply pie d it if you don't have a calculator and want less steps. Because I'm such a great guy I have taken the time to figure the answer for you. If a mile has X number of feet and your tires turn Y distance per revolution, the ratio of flexes per minute at Z miles an hour comes out to be a whole crap load. That's way more than a pot full, as any mathematician will attest. The conclusion is obvious. An under-inflated tire gets really hot, giving it a greater chance at failure. Next time you see a car that had a blow out, crashed, splattered all over the pavement and is surrounded by dead bodies, you will no doubt think, "That dude should have checked his tire pressure."

Keeping your tires properly inflated will not only save you four dollars and seventy six cents a year on gas, it might save your paint, and just might save your ass.