Huffman column: 'Y'all better watch ...'

When my sons were young and my wife a stay-at-home mom, I worked a part-time evening job at the Sears Automotive Center in Burlington.

I was a salesman, primarily dealing in tires and batteries. This was around 1990 and the auto center was a rocking place, usually swamped with customers. At the time, Sears did everything from oil changes and brake work to tune-ups. We were one of the few businesses in town that worked on auto air conditioners.

I earned minimum wage plus 3 percent of everything I sold. There were weeks I averaged better than $20 an hour, considerably more than I was earning at my full-time job as a writer for the local newspaper.

Business at the auto center usually slowed just before closing, and one night someone pulled a pickup into the garage. In the truck's bed lay a worn-out tire still mounted on a rim. The tread was pulled loose from the tire's carcass, but the inner tube remained inflated.

I hope I'm explaining this clearly.

Wayne, one of our younger mechanics, climbed into the bed of the pickup, then picked up the tire and rim. Wayne was something of a blowhard, but not a bad sort.

He stood on the tailgate of the pickup, then announced to everyone within earshot, "Y'all better watch the hell out."

Then he heaved the tire into the air.

Wayne apparently thought the tire would hit the shop's concrete floor and die. Wayne's assumption was incorrect.

What the tire did was hit the floor. But because the inner tube was still inflated and it struck at just the right angle, the tire — rim and all — bounced high into the air like something of an out-of-control projectile. It was a sight to behold.

Standing close by was one of those containers into which oil was drained. You've seen them. Mechanics slide them under cars when vehicles are on a lift, then slide them away once the oil is drained. If these contraptions have an official name, I don't know it.

As fate would have it, the old tire that Wayne set free bounced up directly under the lip of this receptacle for used oil. It apparently struck with a good amount of force, seeing as how it set that black, nasty oil flying everywhere. The ceiling of the work area was quite high, and oil splattered even there.

The tire quickly rolled to a halt, but the damage was done. It left a mess in its wake, surrounding cars, tools and tires all left dripping oil.

Those who watched this scenario unfold stood speechless for a moment. It's not every day one sees this type carnage unfold inside the confines of a major retailer.

The first person to move was Terry, another mechanic. He sprinted for an open bay door there in the garage.

Terry was a big guy who had been a heck of a football player in high school. He ran outside, then bent over with his hands on his knees.

I thought some of the old oil must have still been hot and splattered Terry. I figured he was hurting.

I hustled out. Terry remained bent over, his hands still on his knees. "You all right?" I asked.

Then I realized: Terry wasn't hurt, he was laughing. Uncontrollably.

With the exception of Wayne, everyone else soon joined Terry, tears of laughter running down the faces of several of the mechanics. Only Wayne seemed to miss the humor.

The scenario had a mostly happy ending. We all pitched in and helped Wayne clean the mess as best we could, though no one could figure a way to get to the garage's ceiling. The auto center's manager, Brooke, was working across the mall parking lot at Sears' main store that night.

Wayne worried that when Brooke came to the auto center to close, he'd scream or, worse, fire him. Brooke did neither. "You didn't do it on purpose, did you?" he asked.

"No," Wayne replied.

"Then don't worry about it," Brooke told him.

For Wayne it was a lesson in life. For me, it was a night I learned that old tires can retain a bit of their bounce.

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When not busying himself by building model cars, Steve Huffman writes from his house in Spencer.