Clearing a hurdle

Just as the song says, I put some new shoes on, or in this case, tires, and suddenly everything seems alright.

The interior of my car is perfumed with the sharp scent of black rubber. Not exactly equal to the scent of pine trees or the smell of a brand-new car fresh off the dealership lot, yet the smell of  two new tires that had rested in the back of my car is not horrid.
Driving into work this week with the tires resting side-by-side in the car's back seat, I wondered if people might do a double-take if they walked past my vehicle. Truth be told, I've kept tires in stranger places. When I had my VW Beetle and a set of snow tires, the unused tires were stuffed in the hall closet of my first rental.
Hanging up your coat was impossible; the black rubber wheels were crammed right up to the rod. I was never particularly pleased with this setup so I generally avoided opening that closet door so I could ignore that annoyance.
Turns out that some things can't be avoided; at least not car tires. My current car, in my eyes, is an improvement over the Beetle because the Mazda has four doors, a plug for an MP3 player and tires that do not require a seasonal change.
My mother recommended getting snow tires for the Beetle. She was probably correct; its regular set of wheels were too wimpy for snowstorms. As a result, just as some would haul out the winter sweaters and snow boots when the temperature drops, my snow tires would be rounded up during the late fall to be taken to the auto mechanic to get put on. Appearance-wise, I couldn't tell much of a difference between the sets of wheels but at one point  it was pointed out that my tiny, bubble-like car looked it had monster truck tires in the winter time.
So when it came time to get a new car, I was firm in my decision to get a car with all-weather tires. It would cut out that pesky task of having to shuck off one set of wheels and install another. Things would be easier.
I can be such a fool.
When the temperature suddenly drops, the tire pressure light in the Mazda has a tendency to chime on. It's amazing how a small squiggle on the dashboard can drive me nuts so I take it to Kwik Lube immediately. The first time it happened, the mechanic said it was nothing and switched the light off. The second time it occurred, the light was turned off but it was recommended I get new tires for the car. Absurd! I thought. The car is only three years old; its longest trip was to Albuquerque. So I ignored the advice.
Months passed and then I happened to glance at the two front wheels. The treads had completely disappeared. The wheels were so smooth it was as though a giant gum eraser rubbed the treads away, leaving only faint fine lines along the edges.
My teeth would be slightly gritted whenever I turned the ignition on; they gritted even harder when I realized I would need to buy new tires.
But my father found me a great deal on new tires so I placed the order and by the middle of the week they were propped up against my door. I cut away the packaging tape and shuffled them around the car as if I was arranging puzzle pieces until they fit.
Metzger's got them installed and now I turn the car on with ease.
When I railed to my parents about my old, ruined tires and the need to buy new ones, my mother just shrugged and said it was the joy of owning a car.
Once again, she is right. Ownership entails the whole enchilada-the perks and the aggravations. So I don't mind catching a whiff of that new tire scent when I get in my car. To me it is the smell of another cleared hurdle.