After a nice lunch with my grandfather that was delayed due to us needing to buy four new tires (wow, they were in bad shape), we hit the road. We took a short cut that went on for a while, but it was devoid of traffic and lovely to look at. It totally bypassed all of Phoenix proper, and dumped us out on I-10 west of the metropolitan civilization.
The only problem was when one of our brand new tires blew the hell out after maybe forty miles. Maybe forty. I wish I had taken a picture of this tire. It was totally shredded and looked like it had cut itself off the wheel.
We were nervous that the alignment was way off and replaced the full-size spare. We gingerly drove home the rest of the way, made it, entertained Ryan and Jules (who visited) and the next day I went back to our local Firestone.
The guy didn't seem to amused when I asked if we got the old Explorer special, but I think he was just happy I wasn't really yelling at him. They just replaced the tire and didn't use the extra warranty and insurance I'd paid for; he could tell it had barely been used.
Just one of those things.
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