Today's Jaw Dropper.
I pulled in to have my slow leak in a rear tyre repaired. A taxi pulled in with a punctured rear tyre.
While he removed the tyre I couldn't help but notice his front tyre...as bald as a baby's bum. Your language has left a legacy, Dad.
After returning my eyeballs to their sockets, I politely mentioned the condition of the front tyre to the driver, who happily pointed out that it still had three lines of tread on it. Ah. OK. Mental sarcasm to self: Don't just check taxis for working rear seat belts; also do a rubber check.
Turning this over in my mind, I meandered to the other side of the car and found the other front tyre in identical condition. At least they matched? I guess, physics would dictate that a negative plus a negative makes a positive? Is that how it goes?
Oh. And the tyre in the photograph actually had a nail in it. "It's no-going down..." he reassured me.
It was probably improving the traction.
Pulling my vast knowledge of the "physics, tyres and rain" cocktail from the matchbox I keep it in, I asked the man how many children he had. "Four daughters." The Indian man beamed proudly, obviously his greatest achievement under discussion. "How would they manage if you died or got badly hurt?" He shook his head and admitted, they could not.
I explained to him that driving with bald tyres was dangerous for customers, but even MORE dangerous for his family. I ignored the fact that he was probably suffering continual carbon monoxide poisoning from the rust holes. He decided loudly that he was going to tell his boss he MUST change the tyres!!
I asked permission to take a photo of the tyre, and he seemed disappointed that he was not going to be in the photo. Maybe next time.