After months of putting it off, I brought my car back to the Good tire place. The driver's side front tire kept losing just a few pounds of pressure. The warning light would come on the dash almost weekly. Jake said that at that slow rate it was not the tire, but most likely the valve itself.
I'm seen promptly at the appointed time. I'm watching through the glass as the mechanic took off the tire and dismounted it from the rim. He frowned and rolled it to the manager who rolled it out to me. No excessive wear but there was a deep fissure in the sidewall that followed the curve of the wheel. Dry rot he said. Old age. No surprise, the front tires were 6 years old. I bought new ones for the rear just pre-Covid. New front boots for baby, 256$.
I took him out on the interstate to feel it. Magic Carpet time! There is nothing like the feel of driving on new tires. No more dipping into turns. Faster! I didn't even look at the dash, just drove as fast as I dared and ran out of road pretty quick. Took the exit ramp like Daytona and braked to sane and civilized for the merge. Cheap thrills are the best and hard to come by these days.
There was a muffled clunk from the rear as if I'd picked up a clod of mud that plastered itself up inside the wheel well. Didn't think much of it. A few miles down the road, I was hearing an odd rumble when I applied the brakes, which worked as accustomed, but the sound got louder as I got closer to home. Not a good sound.
Jake came with Charlie after school to look into the trouble. There was plenty. I needed new brake pads, both rotors, and a set of brake calipers (that was the clunk). All of this, about 400$ in parts, completely coincidental to the tire thing. He won't have the two hours of daylight and time until tomorrow and I won't let him work if it's raining. Sunday should be sunny and 60 here, so here I am, nowhere to go and no way to get there, even if I was so inclined.
There will be some miles come Sunday.