Are All Tire Stores Created Equally?
Car on hoist, hood opened. A wave of déjà vu swept over me. Why was the hood of my car propped open when all I had requested was a simple tire rotation? And why was a five minute exercise taking an hour and twenty minutes? Kal Tire was morphing into Canadian Tire before my very eyes.
Here though, kind reader, is an explanation of my phobia concerning stores with the word "Tire" in the title. Twelve years ago I brought my humble little Volkswagon Fox into a local Canadian Tire store to have its oil changed. Within minutes of handing over the keys, my car was hoisted into the air and all four wheels were removed from their respective axels. The car's hood was propped open; a fellow in grease-covered overalls and a concerned look on his face walked beneath the car. He came back into the waiting room. "M'am," he said, "It would be morally wrong of me to allow you to leave this garage with a car in as rough a shape as yours." In fact, there was nothing wrong with my car, up until that Canadian Tire mechanic got his hands on it. It cost me hundreds of dollars to get my car released that day and, actually, to be honest, my car never was quite the same.
So, imagine my fear when I saw my 1997 Mazda Protege perched on the hoist with its hood ajar and mechanics milling around it at a tire store last week. They were waiting for their commander-in-chief to give them the go ahead to replace the brake fluid, the brakes, the three-month old battery, and I'm sure replace or repair anything else the CinC could convince me of having done.
And the morning had started out so well, too. Mom and I were pleased to have our flu shots out of the way and were confident that the next thing on our to-do list was really only a matter of having my eight-month-old tires rotated: back to front and front to back. "It'll take five minutes," friend Al advised. We passed through the smudged plexiglass doors into the chrome filled tire shop. I approached the counter with my Kal Tire receipt in hand. "Do I need an appointment to have my car's tires rotated?" "No, m'am." I asked how long the procedure would take and was told, "30 minutes." Okay, I could live with that.
Mom and I decided to bide our time at Abel Auction, a liquidation centre located across the street from the tire store. After ogling the shelves of fine china and gasping at the price of Tommy Hilfiger charger plates (leather and $80 each) we meandered back to Kal Tire. I'm not sure what was more irritating, ABC's morning show on the lobby TV or the voice of the head sales guy as he called for people to come and pay for their vehicles' release.
Finally, after a full hour and 10 minutes had passed, I went to the counter and enquired about my car still perched on the hoist with its hood open. The Commander in Chief reviewed two pages of things horribly wrong with my car and drew a graph that illustrated the deterioration of the car's battery. I faked a pleasant smile and through gritted teeth said, "that's fine, I'll discuss it with my mechanic, can I please have my car back now?" Adding insult to injury I heard his subordinates ask him if they could go ahead with the 'fixes' when he walked into the garage. Imagine! Before heading back into the garage he crumpled up the literature documenting all that was wrong with my car. I guess he didn't want a paper trail.
Moral of the story? Buy your tires at Costco.
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