Beware the tire vultures

A couple of used tires may have been the cause of one major meltdown

When we bought our 1999 Georgetown motorhome, I saw there was some weather-checking on the tires. But there was lots of tread and I expected we would be good for many miles. Then on our winter trip to Arizona we met some people I call the tire vultures.

Not long after we cleared Salt Lake City we pulled into one of the many Flying-J truck stops to get fuel and take the dog for a walk. We were only there a few minutes when a very friendly guy came rolling up on a golf cart. After some small talk, he pointed out the weather checking on one of our front tires. He outlined the dangers of driving on old tires and told us he could give us a good deal on some new front tires. I accepted. He wanted to replace the back tires as well, but he had already put us $500 over our travel budget.

The next day we stopped for fuel again and as I was gassing up a guy told me one of my inside duals looked a little low. He said I could just pull it over to his tire shop and he would have one of his guys top it up for free. Well, that worked for me.
Once we were there he started pointing out all the other problems with our tires and soon had me convinced I was driving a death trap. I was not going to pay for new tires, but he had this “really nice” set of used tires and he would give me a “good deal.” Five hundred bucks later we were back on our way. In hindsight, I expect those tires came from the last guy he sold new tires to, but you live and learn. This was a choice I would eventually regret.

Late the following summer we thought it might be a good idea to take our motorhome on a cruise to see some friends in a neighbouring province, about a six-hour drive away. It was great to be back in the coach again and I was enjoying driving the flat roads of Saskatchewan. About 15 minutes from our destination, Gail said she thought she could smell burning rubber. Shortly after that we heard a loud bang. I thought something had fallen down in the motorhome. Soon I could smell the burning rubber, too.

Nothing was showing up in the mirrors and I thought it might be something rubbing against a belt. There was no shoulder on the road and no place to pull over, so I thought I would deal with it when we got to our friends’ place, now just a few minutes away. Then I saw an oncoming car stopped and the driver waving his arms at me. When I stopped, he told me my inside dual was on fire--almost at the same time I saw the smoke.

I got Gail and the dog out and grabbed the fire extinguisher. By the time I got to it, the flames were licking up the side of the motorhome and my little fire extinguisher was almost useless. Maybe those used tires were not such a good idea.

I ran back in and grabbed a few things and we stood back and watched our home on wheels burn to the ground.

We caught a ride to our friends’ place with only the clothes on our back. The next day they drove us to where we could rent a car and make our way back home. We had planned on spending six months in Arizona that winter, so the motorhome was loaded with everything we would need.

Gail put a detailed list of contents together for the insurance company. I provided photos of the coach before and after the fire and we submitted it to our insurer. I have to say they dealt with our claim promptly and fairly. I was very impressed.

Now it was time to shop for another motorhome and replace all the stuff we had lost. Because we enjoyed our previous trip so much, we decided to upgrade to a diesel pusher. Much more money—but it would be our Arizona home for six months and it would give Gail a bigger kitchen with more storage. We found one and used it for our trip down the Oregon coast in the fall. That trip was one I will never forget.

But that is my next story.