July 7, 2014--Midcoast: Free Air

The only place in the area, or, these days, maybe anywhere, where you can get air for your car tires without paying for it is in New Harbor at Hanna's gas station and general store.

They don't have one of those machines that you have to feed with quarters to get five minutes of metered compressed air. Five minutes being barely enough time to get to all four tires, check their pressure, and then inflate them to the manufacturer's suggested specs.

Actually, that's not enough time unless you have someone with you to assist in the process. Otherwise, you'd better have another 75 cents ready.

So Rona and I approach tire checks, where you have to pay for air, as a team.

We pull up to the hose wrapped around one of those compressors or lying in a pool of spilled oil and Rona, pit-crew style, races around the car taking off all four valve caps. I follow right behind with my pressure tester and if any tire has below 35 pounds of pressure she leaves the cap off indicating it needs air.

We then get the pump going by inserting three quarters and I hurry to complete my part of the team's work--pumping in a few bursts of air (usually too much), letting the excess out (again usually too much), hoping to get it all done before the air pump kicks off.

Half the time I do fine and half the time I don't, which causes more than a little tension between us since, at this time in my life, Rona has taken to suggesting that we switch roles--I would remove the caps and she would do the tire topping-off. But, you know how it is--about this there's a genetic man-woman thing. OK, it's cultural. And so we do the best we can to maintain harmony and I try to ignore the grumbling in the background.

Generally all four tires need air. Driving the kind of broken roads that are common here--including right up to our house--causes air to leak out so invariably tire pressures range from 30 to 32 pounds per square inch. Low enough to lead to uneven tire wear and lower miles per gallon. Both to be avoided.

So we're willing to shell out the 75 cents if we can't get to Hanna's.

But Hanna's is our go-to place when in the area.

Free Air the sign above the hose says that dangles casually from the side of Hanna's general store where you can also get basic groceries, cold and hot drinks, fishing tackle, and even guns and ammo.

I can go there on my own as I did yesterday to check out the tire situation without having to race from tire to tire; or, if we go together, I can take care of the tires while Rona roams around inside, maybe buying a bottle of water or checking out who's buying ammo this time of year, months before hunting season. I've suggested that while doing that she doesn't do too much staring.

"'Bout the only thing that's still free these days," the other day said a grizzled man of about 80 as I was stooped beside the right front tire, trying to get the pressure to exactly 35 pounds.

In truth, I'd prefer Rona didn't know that working at ground level for me has become a bit of a problem--the getting up part--so I just grunted in reply, wanting to get done quickly and move on the the right rear, just where it seemed he had settled in.

"Nice of 'em Hannas to let you get it for free. Like I've been sayin' for more years than I'd like to count, the next thing you know they'll tax the air we breathe. Taxin' everything else. So why not air? We gotta pay for water. It used to be free. They sell it in bottles inside." He waved contemptuously toward the store, "Costs 'bout as much as a Coke. But it's just plain water. And if you get town water they make you pay for that too. They get it for free so I don't see chargin' us for it."

By then, still not saying anything, I was working on the right rear tire. Its pressure had dipped to 31 and after the first pulse of air I pumped in it shot up to 37. I let some out and it plunged back down to 33. Then up to 36, which I felt was close enough. So, holding onto the car, I struggled to get up and moved around it to the left rear.  He followed me, shuffling on his one good leg.

I can't move around much better than him, I muttered to myself. And he's a lot older than me. I was not having a good time and wanted to shake him off by pretending to ignore him.

"Tell you the truth I don't have much good to say 'bout most everything these days. You see things any different?" He was trying to draw me in, but, not wanting to, I continued to stare at my pressure gauge.

"Now they want to take our freedom away. What-id we fight all 'em wars for?" He was no longer waiting for a response. He was on a roll. "Lost my kid brother in Nam and then a nephew three years ago in I-raq. That they have money for. Git it from them Chinese 'cause we've 'bout run out. Next thing you know we'll be fightin' 'em again. Like I say, we shoulda finished 'em off in Korea when we had the chance. That was my war. My unit was sent all the way up by that Yalu River. In a winter worse than the one we had here last winter. Froze half my toes of and saw six a my buddies shot up. I still have handful of Chinese shell casing in my chest. Like my son says, if I ever was to try to get on an airplane I'd set off all sorts of sirens. They'd think I'm one of them terrorists. Maybe I'll do that one day, just for the heck of it, to remind everyone what we boys in the service went through. Sheeeet."

He liked that and laughed to himself.

By then Rona was back outside and had walked over toward him. She had overheard his story. "Sorry to learn about your brother and nephew. But," she said with understandable hesitation, "in my view we shouldn't have been involved in either of those wars. What a . . ."

I cleared my throat loud enough for her to hear as a signal that this was not a good place to go.

"Can't say I disagree with that ma'am. We got 'nouh problems right here in the U. S. of A.--even in this town--not to be stickin' our noses into other people's business. Never did them or us no good."

"I'm inclined that way myself," Rona nodded. "We should take care of our own and . . ."

"Sometimes," he said, "takin' care of our own means we gotta fight for what we believe in."

"I'm OK with that but only when we really do have to fight and have tried everything else we could to solve our problems without fighting. I'm no pacifist but . . ."

"Sounds then like maybe we're on the same wavelength."

He laughed toothlessly, looking down at me. "How's that fella of yours doing with his tires?"

"I'm just about done," I said still crouching at the left front. I try to get the exact pressure in the front two. For safety's sake. But I'm having trouble with this one. I can't get it to 35."

"Good thing," he said, "they still got free air here. So you can take all the time you want." He continued laughing while he turned and limped toward the store.

"I'm gonna get me some water," he said over his shoulder, "There's a cooler in the back where they don't charge nothin' for it."