June 27, 1936-Pyle Changed Only One Tire in 29,000 Miles of Driving
The Washington Daily News, Saturday, June 27, 1936
Pyle Changed Only One Tire in 29,000 Miles of Driving
By ERNIE PYLE
A lot of people drive their autos as much as 29,000 miles in a year. But not many people during that time cover 38 states, five provinces of Canada and 10 states in Mexico. That’s what I did. Ain’t I wonderful?
And during all that time I have had to change only one tire! Picked up a rusty nail on a gravel road in Louisiana.
I’ve used two sets of tires. Traded the first set after 15,000, altho they were still pretty good. The second set is still all right. If you’ll send me one thousand dollars ($1000) and a stamped envelope, I’ll tell you what kind of tires I use.
The greatest improvement in motoring, it seems to me, has been in tires. It is inconceivable to me how any substance can stand up under what my tires have been thru.
Ten years ago I drove “around the rim” of the United States. Nine thousand miles in six weeks. I didn’t keep count, but I’m sure I changed 30 tires on that trip. I do know I changed 13 in one forenoon, just east of Seattle, where someone had put tacks in the road. And now, 10 years later, we go 29,000 miles and change one tire.
When I started this “roving reporter’s” job, I stocked up with various accessories that I had read in a magazine a constant motorist should have. I got:
A set of chains–a tow rope–a flashlight–a box of fuses–two extra light bulbs– a fan belt–and a tire pump, since I couldn’t find one in the car.
I wore out the chains and bought another set, which I haven’t needed.
I’ve never needed the tow rope for myself. But I stopped to pull a fellow out of the ditch in New Mexico one day, and pulled my own tow rope right in two. Haw! Haw! Haw!
The flashlight has been indispensable, and I’m still using the same battery.
I’ve never needed the light bulbs, nor the fuses, and I wouldn’t know how to put in a fuse if I had needed one. Wouldn’t even know I needed it, probably.
The fan belt. Oh, yes, the fan belt. Down in Oklahoma, about a month ago, my old belt started stripping off. The loose pieces would whack the inside of the hood, like beating a bass drum. About every half mile I’d have to get out and cut off a piece. But it held till we got to a little garage. And then I turned that car inside out trying to find my extra belt. I know it was there, but I couldn’t find it. So I had to buy another one.
And as for the pump. I’ve never needed it. But one day, rummaging under the seat for my jack to help a fellow out, I discovered two pumps. I already had one, and didn’t know it. Anybody want to buy a good pump, cheap?
Some states have very high gas taxes. In Arkansas it’s seven cents a gallon. I figured up that if you buy 12 gallons of gas and three packs of cigarets in Arkansas, you’ve left exactly one dollar in state taxes.
The best marked city for a tourist to get thru, in my opinion, is Pueblo, Col. The best marked state is Iowa. Kentucky is among the poorest. Ohio, a rich state, has terrible main highways. The wildest drivers on the roads have Illinois tags.
In more than 300 days of driving, there has been only one day when I had an appointment at a definite time at the other end. It was in southern Indiana, and an old school friend whom I hadn’t seen for 13 years was going to meet me at 12:30 for lunch in a town along the way.
I started in plenty of time, and it was only 60 miles away. But in that 60 miles my brakes caught fire, and I had to stop and have them loosened; the gas pump got dirt in it, and we crippled along on half a motor for 10 miles; and then just as we were almost there, we hit an unexpected six-mile gravel road detour. We got there 15 minutes late, in a frenzy.
In 29,000 miles I have run out of gas twice. Both times, as far as I could figure, thieves had syphoned it out the night before, for I should have had enough for another 100 miles.
Once was in New Mexico, about a year ago, and talk about luck! We went dead right in front of a ranch house, and there wasn’t another house for 17 miles in either direction. The rancher gave me gas from his gasoline engine.
A few weeks ago we were back over that same road. We recognized the ranch house, and saw the man sitting on the steps. I stopped and asked if he remembered me. He didn’t at first, but after I recalled the incident, he remembered.
He had had tough luck since I saw him last. During the winter he slipped on the icy path, and broke his wrist. It still has a big knot on it, and his hand is stiff, and he thinks he can never use it again.
The other time we ran out of gas was on a dirt road in Minnesota, after midnight. It wasn’t 30 seconds till a car came along, took me to the nearest town for gas, brought me back, and the fellow even took the can and said he’d deliver it the next morning.
