Currently, to me anyway, it seems every business in every imaginable industry has turned bland and repetitive. Small, privately owned businesses turn to a local branch of a larger company. A large department store undercuts every smaller company in a community and ends them. Now, I don't want to get into economics, but, for better or worse, this trend does end a bit of the diversity and uniqueness that the world used to have.

It way be my childhood in a small community, or more specifically, five miles west of a small community of 1400 in the middle of a state with a population that is less than the largest cities. It may be I'm just a modern old world style type guy. Well that was a bit contradictory, but I think you get it.

Anyway, in all my time as a resident of "The Middle Of Nowhere" I have patronized a lot of small businesses, and currently work at one as well. One of the shops that has become my favorite in the last two years is Shields Tire Shop (Gettysburg SD). It isn't a fancy chain building with nice plastic signs and neon lighting. It doesn't have a large "pit crew" of workers in badly designed polo shirts. It doesn't stock the fanciest of ostrich skinned purple 22" wheels. It, in fact, is the complete antithesis of such establishments.

It's an old orange round top cinderblock building. The main door is wood and archaic. There's dust everywhere. There's old blown out tires stacked out front. Half the inventory, used and new, is agricultural applications. There's no free coffee, no showroom, no front office, no banners, no sales, no chrome. I love it.

The Last Bastion Of Style  

Super Fancy Tire Shop Type #521 it's not, and I like it that way

I showed up on any given workday for the shop, clunked out jacket style, with a camera and a notebook. I like using the camera, I hate using the notebook, so I hope my memory serves me for verbatim quotes.

The shop was closed up to serve against the 30* weather, and I meandered towards the only open door. I meandered quite stylishly, as one does when he is not certain that anyone is home and wants to allay suspicion of ill deeds such as robbery and vandalism. Half way to the only open door, the man of the hour pulls up in someone's mini van.

Hellos and such greetings all around as, without pause, he opens the service door that I wasn't heading towards, and then opens the garage door. I then notice, that if I had opened the door, I would have seen the sign informing me that head man Shields was out on a service call. Now it may become apparent to you, because of the preceding, that this is a one man operation. This is true. Imagine, a general mindset of being that allows for wandering off, doors unlocked. Wonderful. 

I walk in behind him and look about the small shop, noticing the sign again and wondering if I should put it up and away. I don't, but he does so later. The absolutely most charming thing was that the sign was made out of half an old box, a marker, and a coat hanger. That's stylish, no small plastic sign with a clock on it to inform the populous, just a cardboard sign hung on a jack handle.

At this point I feel the need to note, though it may sound so, I am not being sarcastic at all, I really do like the style the place exudes. So when I said "That's style" and the like, I am saying so respectfully.

I hope you can understand the implications of this picture. No worry, no doubt, no suspicion, just amiable information on some cardboard.

The first customer I am witness to is the said service call he was out on. A minivan that needed a the front tires swapped out for snow tires in preparation for winter sits taking up the main working area of the shop floor. I blather on a bit about this and that, and Mister Shields (I think his name is Dave, I'm bad with names) replies forthwith without pause and sits down on a dusty concrete bad with a beat impact gun and gets cracking. I smile like an idiot, as I am prone to do.

LESSON ONE (001)

Shields takes a tire and puts it on, the always amazing, "bead break o matic" (as I call it) and proceeds to strip off the old tire. Conversation continues. In the midst I learn lesson one.

No shiny television fakery here, industrial light, magic, and tire machines! Rip a man's leg off! Cannibalize a cow in... well it can't really cannibalize a cow, I was thinking of those little toothy fish...

"The secret, the main thing you need to know is, sit on a milk crate"

How's that for insider info !? I deal with milk crates all the time at my job and I never knew! I mean, I stacked two for a quick back room sit down, or to hold up whatever I was working with, but never had I dreamed that they were the perfect configuration for tire work. Indeed, as I now recall, Shields has an amazing system of monkey grip that involves all four limbs to properly align a tire. For all I remember, even a 38" Bias TSL never gave him any trouble. That is, until he put it on the balancer. I do believe I hold the passenger vehicle award for most off balance tire, at well over a pound. No wonder my truck shakes like a concrete vibrator. *ahem* 

The secret to life, the universe, and everything is.... ...a milk crate? (Anyone else think those magnetic ribbons are tacky?)

Talk continues as he works. Apparently he saw his first vehicle equipped with 18" or larger wheels in town. Some sort of Cadillac. I asked him if it made his sorrowful. He gave me a weird look. His tire machine only can do a 17" rim maximum, and from the looks of current trends, he may have to upgrade in the next few years. Once I asked him if he could mount military Michelins on some 20" steel wheels. He kind of blank faced me, and I asked him "Dish soap and crow bars eh?" and that's what it would have been had I went that way.

LESSON TWO (002)

The tires are on the van and he's writing up an invoice. He has all the rate memorized apparently. I asked him about it. I got the following "It's pretty basic, I have most of it memorized, mind like a steel trap you know." A few minutes later, I asked him what else he had said in the previous hour that had been worth writing down (I told you, I hate writing, I had put it off), he voiced a resounding "Hell, I don't know" Actually, he swore a bit more harshly, but editors are editors. The juxtaposition of the two statements did not escape either of us. 

I walked about as he continued casual conversation. In the old tire rack I saw a skid steer tire. I've always wanted to see someone with a Toyota truck or better yet a Samurai run skid tires. 31x15x15! I rolled it out to take a picture and found a hat. I was excited about finding it. Hero of the day I though, rewards and accolades and possibly a statue downtown that pigeons can poop on. Alas 'twas not the case.

	A chair... on a tire... predictable, but amusing nonetheless Note this is the only place for guests to sit I sat on milk crates, I'm cool
	Who wouldn't want to run that on a small trail rig? Not streetable, but I bet that grip never quits!

"Bahhh, I hate hats, I only wore that in the rain so I wouldn't get soaked. all hats are ridiculous, I hate hats! Well except stocking hats, those are ok. You want the hat?"

I indeed did NOT want the hat after that adage. Now I know, I am proud to say, that all hats suck, except stocking hats..... where is my stocking hat? 

Hmmmmm I couldn't find it....

Anyway....

During his work, I notice he's left handed. Ooh left hand stigma. "What, you're left handed? What!? He kind of looks at me askew and says "A lot of president were left handed" This struck me as amusing. I said "So do you have a lot of cool left handed facts memorized for naysayers?" He replies... "No... just that one" and after a brief pause, "They tell me it's good at toll booths" For some reason, I think of mailmen.

LESSON THREE (003)

Along the end of my visit, I notice a rim that's ground to an almost unrecognizable state. I ask about it, and the story unfolds.

Picture it, a dark country highway, six in the morning. A car with the back tire blown out presumably going better than ninety miles per. An estimated twenty miles into town and the car pulls into the gas station next to the tire shop.

Eight in the morning. The gas station. Enter: Mr. Shields. He is informed that he has a customer. The owner of the car says he needs a tire. Looking at the owner a bit askew, Mr., Shields says "Pull around". The owner does, but not on the road. He drive on the lawn in front of the shop clunking and sparking all the way in.

Now the situation sits with a strange man with a strange car in a strange situation. Mr. Shields patches it up as he can and send him off.

The oddity is this. The owner of the car had explained why he was in the state he was with the car in the state it was. It seems that he had been being chase by two assassins on motorcycles, and two snipers in helicopters, and the snipers had shot out his tire. Hmmmmm.... strange people, strange days.

Take it as a lesson, be courteous, but be careful. Who knows where the snipers lurk.

How long do you think it would take to grind an aluminum rim down that far on pavement? I never really considered the dangers of airborne snipers before this. I still don't.

The Rest Of The Mantra In Bits And Pieces

The day was fun, and it was an interesting three hours, but it can't really be explained in involved paragraphs too well as I have so far. I will, if I can, tell the rest of the story in captioned pictures and short spiels. You may think this is a cop out. You may be right.

	I'm not quite sure what this is. I've seen Mr. Shields throw tires on it and spin it around and make squeaky noises, but I've never seen anything really move around or be activated. I think it's mainly to scare obnoxious children. Maybe it removes those little blue pieces of plastic from something or the other.
	The amazing semi tire cage. Some of the more worn semi tires can burst upon inflation, and those things take a hundred plus pounds per square inch. One of the few inherent dangers of the tire business. I think it would make a good dragster cage.
	Pellet gun! For the removal of birds that take up residence in the shop.  Surprisingly, to me anyway, he doesn't pop the birds, just scares them away. "If you shoot the bird, you have a dead bird to take care of" What beautiful sentiment.
	This man was also in for a snow tire swap. 1986 K20 305 TH350 NP208 10B 14BSF. Yeah, I'm good with calling parts. He didn't want to buy my old lift kit for some reason.
	How can you not like a guy who drives these to work! Both are running 250 I6. The newer short box is coil sprung. I'mma make him rod it out some day.
	Hammer, mattocks, crowbars, and an artillery shell?
	I didn't ask about this, but I think it's a BFG sample plaque or something. Cool tread patterns eh?
	The two ribbed tires in the center were ordered for an airplane and never picked up. 42" or so on 16" rims Maybe if I grooved them......
	I think this is for killing vampires. ...or maybe for changing implement tires...

Off Road Tips

A few tips for proper tire type behavior from Mr. Shields to you

• Proper torquing of the lug nuts is important. No one likes a tire and wheel falling off
• Be careful if you want to use equal to balance tires. It can gum up when wet and clog the valve stem
• Take a tip from skid steer rims, protect the valve stems with a piece of steel tube if you have steel wheels
• Don't put 16" tires on 16.5" wheels or vice versa.... NO NO NO
• Put the best balanced tires on the steer axle

Summary

In summary, Dave Shields is a great guy in a great old fashioned type shop. The kind of man that reflects what most offroaders are, retrogressed men and women, new age cowboys, the last hope of mankind. He's always helpful, always kind. Just don't buy him a hat.