For some time now, I've been wanting to get over to Toledo Bend (on the border between Louisiana and Texas) to get some diving in. There is a distinct lack of transparency in the water near Baton Rouge. (Actually, there's a rather significant lack of even translucency around here, but I digress.) Toledo Bend was about as close as decent water can be found (although Lake Pontchartrain may be on the list for me eventually).
"...miles to go before I sleep." --Robert Frost
The plan was simple. Meet at a friend's house at 2:00am, dive at Toledo Bend, and be back around 5:00pm so one of us could go to work. After naught but a small delay, tanks and gear and snacks and we were all stowed away and ready to begin what would eventually prove to be far more of an adventure than any of us had dreamed possible.
The directions from Baton Rouge to the south end of Toledo Bend are simple enough. Interstate 10 carries you to Lafayette, from which Interstate 49 whisks you on its way to Alexandria, at which point highway 28 leads you steadily onward almost to the very banks of the Sabine. The details after that are not considerably relevant, but it would be wise to review them, should you decide to follow the path we tread.
Tread: "To walk on, over, or along."
Tread: "The part [...] that touches the ground."
There isn't much in the way of shore diving in Toledo Bend, so we were towing a boat. It's a nice boat that they've had for years. Of course, that means that they've also had the trailer for years. Naturally, that means they'd also had the tires for years. (If you are an adept grammarian, you likely noticed the subtle change in verb tense in this paragraph. Give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back as I continue with the story.)
About fifty miles into the drive, we were driving along the bridge over the Atchafalaya (rumor has it, some of the water there is technically "liquid"), when a sudden rarely-heard (yet easily identifiable) noise beset us. 'Twas the noise of a disintegrating tread and a shredding tire. After a brief foray on the fool's errand of trying to find an open tire replacement enterprise at the unholy hour of 3:30am, we returned to the trailer and met up with a kind officer of the law. He graciously used his mighty powers to summon Guy's Towing, and by a quarter to seven, we were parked at a Walmart with the boat trailer sitting there looking somewhat despondent.
I've been told that somewhere exists a Walmart at which is found a tire service employing many active and motivated associates, each of them ready at a moment's notice to assist the weary traveller. This was not that Walmart. This was the Walmart at which the two (eventually three) employees who deigned to show themselves in uniform did their utmost to convey to the masses their stolid indifference to the plight of those who showed the pure audacity to interrupt their well-practiced apathy. After waiting an hour and a half for service, further inquiries revealed that they had no intention of assisting us for at least two to three more hours.
Alas, but those poor decrepit souls had little chance to prevail against me in a battle of wills, for I have a *government* job. While others in our party were napping or becoming rather impatient, I was plotting their undoing. (Perhaps I should rather say that I was "plotting their doing", as this would be more logically correct, albeit somewhat grammatically foreign.) With the assistance of J.'s dad, I was able to remove the remnants of the failed tire from the wheel, and faced with a job half-finished, even the most apathetic Walmart associate must needs complete the task, as the lack of any record of the customer having performed half the work, it will appear the associate has actually *done* something, clearing the way for significantly enhanced laziness.
We were back on the road again not long after 9:00am, and during the long wait, we took the opportunity to purchase a new anchor and chain, which would prove invaluable, should we ever manage to make out way to Toledo Bend. (We'd also picked up a trailer light kit, as the tire had utterly destroyed the light on its side of the trailer when it blew, and we had plenty of time to get it installed while waiting.) As it stood, we would have a significantly abbreviated diving day, yet there was still time to grab a quick lunch before hitting the water for at least one dive. At least that's how we planned.
"The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men..." --Robert Burns
We started out of Lafayette (at which we had stopped for our brand new tire), and followed I-49 north to Alexandria. By all rights, the new tire was performing beautifully, however, J.'s dad became slightly apprehensive about the other tire. We pulled off at an exit, and he performed a quick pressure check. Apparently, the pressure was somewhat low, so he topped it off. That should've been a warning to me, but it was now over eight hours since I'd left home (with no sleep, by the way).
The tire didn't blow on the Interstate. It was perfectly fine through Alex. It was great over the highway... for thirty-some miles, at least.
Yes, indeed. About 15 miles east of Leesville, there was a noise somewhat distinct from the noise of the first tire throwing its tread and disintegrating. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that the tread was indeed all but completely gone... but yet the tire was still holding air. (Also, a steel belt tire, which is what we were watching, is significant more shiny than a tire in which the steel belts are covered with black rubber.) Driving along without any tread (or external rubber, for that matter) is not exactly "recommended", but as the tire was still holding air and we were 15 miles from the nearest community, we decided to press on (albeit at significantly reduced speed).
While it took rather more than half an hour, in the end, we did successfully navigate the steel tire all the way to Leesville. Upon stopping at a gas station, we were informed that we could procure a new tire at the Walmart on the other side of town.
I firmly believe that credit belongs where credit is due, and so, let me say that for all the work ethic and customer service the Walmart in Lafayette was lacking, the Walmart in Leesville made up for it doubly, and in spades. It was a pleasure listening to and watching the employees as they kept several bays in almost constant motion. I jacked up the trailer, pulled the wheel, and barely had time to finish my second bag of Skittles before the techs had swapped the shiny metal for fresh rubber tread.
Within the hour, we were heading to lunch, but even with the quick turnaround (and lack of roadside waiting) of the second tire, we had run out of time for diving. We had to head directly back in order to make it home in time to get to work (for the one of us who had Saturday evening work). As we ate, we pondered how close we came to getting at least a little bottom time in spite of it all, but without divine intervention, we had run out of options.
(...continues below...)
"...miles to go before I sleep." --Robert Frost
The plan was simple. Meet at a friend's house at 2:00am, dive at Toledo Bend, and be back around 5:00pm so one of us could go to work. After naught but a small delay, tanks and gear and snacks and we were all stowed away and ready to begin what would eventually prove to be far more of an adventure than any of us had dreamed possible.
The directions from Baton Rouge to the south end of Toledo Bend are simple enough. Interstate 10 carries you to Lafayette, from which Interstate 49 whisks you on its way to Alexandria, at which point highway 28 leads you steadily onward almost to the very banks of the Sabine. The details after that are not considerably relevant, but it would be wise to review them, should you decide to follow the path we tread.
Tread: "To walk on, over, or along."
Tread: "The part [...] that touches the ground."
There isn't much in the way of shore diving in Toledo Bend, so we were towing a boat. It's a nice boat that they've had for years. Of course, that means that they've also had the trailer for years. Naturally, that means they'd also had the tires for years. (If you are an adept grammarian, you likely noticed the subtle change in verb tense in this paragraph. Give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back as I continue with the story.)
About fifty miles into the drive, we were driving along the bridge over the Atchafalaya (rumor has it, some of the water there is technically "liquid"), when a sudden rarely-heard (yet easily identifiable) noise beset us. 'Twas the noise of a disintegrating tread and a shredding tire. After a brief foray on the fool's errand of trying to find an open tire replacement enterprise at the unholy hour of 3:30am, we returned to the trailer and met up with a kind officer of the law. He graciously used his mighty powers to summon Guy's Towing, and by a quarter to seven, we were parked at a Walmart with the boat trailer sitting there looking somewhat despondent.
I've been told that somewhere exists a Walmart at which is found a tire service employing many active and motivated associates, each of them ready at a moment's notice to assist the weary traveller. This was not that Walmart. This was the Walmart at which the two (eventually three) employees who deigned to show themselves in uniform did their utmost to convey to the masses their stolid indifference to the plight of those who showed the pure audacity to interrupt their well-practiced apathy. After waiting an hour and a half for service, further inquiries revealed that they had no intention of assisting us for at least two to three more hours.
Alas, but those poor decrepit souls had little chance to prevail against me in a battle of wills, for I have a *government* job. While others in our party were napping or becoming rather impatient, I was plotting their undoing. (Perhaps I should rather say that I was "plotting their doing", as this would be more logically correct, albeit somewhat grammatically foreign.) With the assistance of J.'s dad, I was able to remove the remnants of the failed tire from the wheel, and faced with a job half-finished, even the most apathetic Walmart associate must needs complete the task, as the lack of any record of the customer having performed half the work, it will appear the associate has actually *done* something, clearing the way for significantly enhanced laziness.
We were back on the road again not long after 9:00am, and during the long wait, we took the opportunity to purchase a new anchor and chain, which would prove invaluable, should we ever manage to make out way to Toledo Bend. (We'd also picked up a trailer light kit, as the tire had utterly destroyed the light on its side of the trailer when it blew, and we had plenty of time to get it installed while waiting.) As it stood, we would have a significantly abbreviated diving day, yet there was still time to grab a quick lunch before hitting the water for at least one dive. At least that's how we planned.
"The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men..." --Robert Burns
We started out of Lafayette (at which we had stopped for our brand new tire), and followed I-49 north to Alexandria. By all rights, the new tire was performing beautifully, however, J.'s dad became slightly apprehensive about the other tire. We pulled off at an exit, and he performed a quick pressure check. Apparently, the pressure was somewhat low, so he topped it off. That should've been a warning to me, but it was now over eight hours since I'd left home (with no sleep, by the way).
The tire didn't blow on the Interstate. It was perfectly fine through Alex. It was great over the highway... for thirty-some miles, at least.
Yes, indeed. About 15 miles east of Leesville, there was a noise somewhat distinct from the noise of the first tire throwing its tread and disintegrating. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that the tread was indeed all but completely gone... but yet the tire was still holding air. (Also, a steel belt tire, which is what we were watching, is significant more shiny than a tire in which the steel belts are covered with black rubber.) Driving along without any tread (or external rubber, for that matter) is not exactly "recommended", but as the tire was still holding air and we were 15 miles from the nearest community, we decided to press on (albeit at significantly reduced speed).
While it took rather more than half an hour, in the end, we did successfully navigate the steel tire all the way to Leesville. Upon stopping at a gas station, we were informed that we could procure a new tire at the Walmart on the other side of town.
I firmly believe that credit belongs where credit is due, and so, let me say that for all the work ethic and customer service the Walmart in Lafayette was lacking, the Walmart in Leesville made up for it doubly, and in spades. It was a pleasure listening to and watching the employees as they kept several bays in almost constant motion. I jacked up the trailer, pulled the wheel, and barely had time to finish my second bag of Skittles before the techs had swapped the shiny metal for fresh rubber tread.
Within the hour, we were heading to lunch, but even with the quick turnaround (and lack of roadside waiting) of the second tire, we had run out of time for diving. We had to head directly back in order to make it home in time to get to work (for the one of us who had Saturday evening work). As we ate, we pondered how close we came to getting at least a little bottom time in spite of it all, but without divine intervention, we had run out of options.
(...continues below...)
