We don't need no steenkin' badges!

Sorry Mom, I may have just aided and abetted a criminal.

BTW (which is texting-ese for "by the way"), is a feller supposed to capitalize the word "mom" when he uses it in this context?  I can never keep that straight.  Thankfully, our fanatically tolerant society won't castigate me if I did it wrong (just as nobody these days is vilified for pronouncing "vs." as "verse").

While I'm on that subject, I wonder what our ever-changing English language will look like after the texting generation has inherited the reins of our nation.  im sure u no wot im talkin bout...the way txters save keystrokes @  evry chance 2 lessen the pain of typing on those fiendishly small keypads.  but i digress...

Keypads will to continue to get sadistically smaller

Anyway, this crime story starts a while back when I backed my utility trailer tire over the blade of an ax.  It goes without saying (but I'm saying it anyway) that the ax won...the tire was mortally wounded.  The other trailer tire turned away in revulsion as it couldn't bear the graphic sight of tire air violently spewing in all directions.

A healthy and happy trailer tire

So I started looking around for a cheap replacement tire (since I knew that my other trailer tire couldn't live alone and that it wouldn't be picky about a new mate...yes, it is trailer trash...pun intended...groan).

Silly me.  I should have recalled what I had learned in Economics 101: the equilibrium price of an item is found at the intersection of the supply and demand curves.  My economics-savvy readers will easily recognize this principal in its equation form:

For the rest of you who aren't familiar with this equation (or just don't know what "savvy" means), the basic concept is that the price of an item will be high when demand for it is high and its availability (supply) is low.

A simple equilibrium price graph

Take, for example, oh let's see...how about the case of trailer tires?  They are used prevalently and extensively throughout our solar system, they are frail and faint-of-heart (experiencing palpitations at the mere sight of an ax), and only 11 are produced annually (solar system-wide).

Savvy?  Oh, sorry...got it?  Yes, the price of a new trailer tire rivals that of the space shuttle (back when space shuttles were in high demand...not now, when they can be seen up on blocks in the back yard of just about every other house in Mississippi).

A space shuttle (in its heyday)

Luckily, one of the (surprisingly friendly) tire dealer guys gave me the suggestion of looking on craigslist.com to see if anybody had used trailer tires for sale in our area.  For those of you who don't know about craigslist.com, you're missing out.  It's like a nationwide garage sale at your fingertips.

So I went home and got right on craigslist.com (no, I'm not getting paid for every reference to craigslist.com) and, sure enough, I found on craigslist.com a place here in town that carries all kinds of used tires (including the specific size I needed).

Earlier this morning I drove over to the place.  From the outside, it looked like a fine, upstanding, and  normal place of business.  However, I got a totally different feeling after I went in.  Inside there were stacks and stacks (and stacks) of all sorts of tires and wheels and tires on wheels.  There were also several very filthy workers amongst the tires (which is typical in a tire shop since tires give off an inky black substance at the mere sight of a tire iron or an ax).

Used tires stacked in sort of a herringbone pattern
(or is it tweed...who knows...and, for that matter, who cares?)

None of these guys were speaking in English.  In fact, I think only one of them spoke any English at all and I use the term "English" very loosely.  I think he may have only known English numbers (so that he could interpret the magic/secret numeric codes that tire manufacturers use to label their tires...u no, sort of like txters...e.g., P185/35¿/√R14/eieio@35 psi).

The English-number speaking guy came over to me and gave me the universally known "raising of the eyebrows and throwing back of the head" gesture (thus either asking me what I wanted or telling me to swing away at the next pitch).  I assumed he just wanted to know what I wanted (since we were in no situation where swinging away would do any good whatsoever).  So I told him the magic/secret code I had found on the side of my dead trailer tire and handed the tire/wheel off to him.  He then went off looking through the stacks of trembling tires.  After a minute or so, he popped his head up holding a tire and I gave him the universally known "thumbs up" signal and went to sit down on the dilapidated, tire-ink covered couch in the corner.

Typical tire shop signalling options

To give credit where credit is due, I guess the guy actually knew a little more than just English numbers, since a few minutes later he brought the tire and wheel over to me, pointed to the whitewall stripe, and asked "in out?".  I told him "in" and he went off on his way again handing the tire and wheel off to one of his apparent minions to take care of.

While sitting there waiting, a woman drove up in a car on which three of her four tires/wheels were the little toy-like spare tires (sometimes referred to as "donuts"....mmmm...donuts...yum, but I digress...).  The English-number (and "in" and "out") speaking guy went over to her to discuss the situation.  I didn't see nor hear what transpired, but the end result was that he replaced one of the "donuts" on her car with another used "donut", put the original "donut" in her trunk, and collected some cash from her.  I don't really have a purpose of telling you this part of the story except that it all seemed exceptionally odd.

A "donut"

Okay, so when the "tire air" transplant operation was over, he brought the donee tire over to me mounted on my old familiar wheel and said "thirty".  I guess his knowledge of English numbers also came in handy when telling people how much they owed him.  I handed over $30 to him, grabbed my reanimated tire, and headed off.

On the way home, I started thinking about the whole "sitchee-ay-shun" and it started smelling a little (as they say) "fishy".  The transaction was devoid of any paperwork (e,g. a receipt), involved only cash, and I hadn't paid any sales tax (that I knew of).  I'm now suspicious of the legality of the place.  I must admit that I had probably been gullible and naive about it.  However in my defense, the place wasn't off in some back alley...it was prominently positioned on one of the major streets in town and had all sorts of signage making it look totally legitimate (at least in my country-bumpkin eyes).

I have the feeling now that if they hadn't had the specific tire size I needed, the guy would have (through various body gestures) told me to come back tomorrow morning (thus allowing his minions to perform the appropriate "midnight requisition" to restock his inventory).  This would have the side effect of someone else then needing to come to his shop to look for a cheap tire/wheel replacement and starting the vicious cycle all over again. Seems like a very lucrative and recession-resistant business model (until the cops show up and start asking questions).

In hindsight, this morning's experience now reminds me of a scene from a great old/classic movie..."The Treasure of the Sierra Madre".  Once again, if you haven't seen this movie, you need to.  Aside from a whole bunch of other enjoyable attributes, Walter Huston's performance is fantastic and earned him a well-deserved Oscar.

Walter Huston maniacally dancing a jig

The scene of which I am reminded involves three gold prospectors encountering some hostile bandits posing as the Mexican Federal police...a.k.a. the Federales (rhymes with tamales...well, not exactly, but close enough).  When one of the prospectors (Humphrey Bogart as Fred C. Dobbs...what a great character name), asks to see their badges, the English-speaking lead bandit (played by Alfonso Bedoya) says "We don't need no steenking badges!".

Alfonso Bedoya delivering his career-making infamous line

Well, everybody THINKS they remember him saying that, but (according to several irreproachable "wikis") he actually said: "Badges? We ain't got no badges. We don't need no badges. I don't have to show you any stinking badges!".  

Since, in the movie, that line sparked off a huge gunfight, it makes me glad that I didn't ask to see any credentials at the tire shop.

Welcome to middle America, 2010.

Flint