Evening star., 1942-03-26

GIluup, tlluLlp.
Henry MeLsners. ing along the
road, grievously hurt and whistling
the sad tune that tires always
whistle as the breath Of life leaves
them.
We got to Martin as quickly as
we could, pulling to the side Of the
road on a soft shoulder" in order
that he might be as comfortable as
possible. 1t tore our hearts to
watch him go. We patted his side
wall and regretted all the time We
had carelessly banged him against
curbs. We smoothed down his
tread and asked forgiveness for all
the times we had gotten him stuck
in mud. We told him we were sorry
for all the times we had skidded
him around curves and banged his
head on rocks. All the while he
kept up his mournful whistle and
sagged closer to the unfriendly rim.
I have heard hunters say that
there Is no more touching sight
than to look into the eyes Of q dying
deer and that to experience this Is
to vow never to hurt q deer again.
Well, I've never looked into the
eyes Of a dying deer but I am sure
1t cannot compare in sadness with
looking into the eyes of dying
Firestone. Not in these days any
way. After all a hunter knows
there are more deer where his deer
came from, and that the woods will
continue to be gladdened by the
frolic and play of the graceful crit
tiers, but, when an automobilist looks
into the eyes of dying tire his
sadness is heightened by the knowl-
edge that he is looking on a soon-to-
be-extinct species, and that before
very long the highways will be bare
of them.
Martin was SO young to 90. re-
member as If it were yesterday
when he came to us. He was a
strong, guaranteed, gum dipped
4-ply 7.00x16. He didn't have
care in the world. He looked for
ward to g, happy $4,000 or more miles
on this earth.
For the first year of his life-and
1t shames us to recall tive treated
him like a stepchild. Sometimes he
got his proper pressure. sometimes
he didn't, but we were happy in the
belief that since late in December,
since the Big Freeze. we had made
up for this mistreatment by lavish
care.
But now he is gone. when We had
every reason to believe that he was
good for 10000 more miles. Cut
down in the prime Of his tread.
The spare has taken his place.
The one and only spare. Some
how, the spare doesn't make up
for the loss of Martin. In the first
place, the spare is a strict smoothie.
There is no trusting him. He is
slicker, pure and simple, and may
betray us at any moment.
Yes, we must trust him, whether
we want to or not. He is all we
have. When he goes-and that time
cannot be far away because he Is
so thin you can see his air right
through his skin-our means OF
transportation will be gone. Then
we will have to take up walking.
That dreaded means of transport
tation fit only for the use Of babies
making trip between mamma and
papa in the living room.
I tell you of the tragedy Of Mar
tin for only one reason-to help
you prepare for that day when
your front tire passes on. That day
is coming to you. Death and taxes
are not the only two sure things
any more. Now it is death, taxes
and no more tires.
During these first few minutes
when your tire goes. you will be
inconsolable. You will want to be
alone, with perhaps only a friendly
vulcanizer to cheer you up. Your
feet will hurt at the very thought
of the work to be done.
Later, you'll snap out of it. You'll
start walking. You'll creak q little
at first, but before you know it
you'll be covering as much as three
or four blocks without . great deal
of trouble. Then. one fine day.
| you'll cover . whole mile without
collapsing.
You'll be happy. proud of your re-
/ lease from the slavery Of the auto
mobile, and the only time you'll
miss an automobile will be when
people pass you in one, and you
recall how much more pleasant it
was to whizz along at 10 miles per
hour than it Is to pound the pave
ment at one-tenth of . mile per
hour.
| Ydrtr - -