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When I drive Old Red, our 1996 Passat wagon, I have to stop by the gas station near our house to fill up the tires. For a long time now, the two rear ones have had leaks. We need to replace them, actually, but the exorbitant cost -- around $200 per tire -- has proved a powerful disincentive, since we want to be sure we're investing in something that we will be able to use. Still, we're going to have to dive into the pool pretty soon. In the meantime, however, I continue my near daily ritual of bringing the rear tires up to 40psi.
As I was sitting here tonight contemplating my extreme fatigue, I realized that this non-standard sort of "filling" -- I put air in more often than gas -- actually makes for an ideal allegory of my present existence. It's a lot of work keeping air in those tires. But I do it without complaint, soothed by the mindless movements that accompany it. And, while I realize that making the investment in new tires would take some stress out of my everyday life, I'm more comfortable maintaining the status quo.
As I was sitting here tonight contemplating my extreme fatigue, I realized that this non-standard sort of "filling" -- I put air in more often than gas -- actually makes for an ideal allegory of my present existence. It's a lot of work keeping air in those tires. But I do it without complaint, soothed by the mindless movements that accompany it. And, while I realize that making the investment in new tires would take some stress out of my everyday life, I'm more comfortable maintaining the status quo.