We’re all familiar with the situation: you post something about a government conspiracy and the very next day you get a pop-up ad when you open a web page somewhere:
As I said in the title, if I were a paranoid man…
Not long ago I was running an errand which took me down the horrible I-35 south of Dallas. It’s horrible not because of the road per se, but because to get to the I-35 south of Dallas from where I am, I have to somehow get around the Dallas downtown area, which as any local yokel will tell you, can be a terrifying experience. (What tourists or newcomers feel when facing this situation I cannot even begin to fathom.)
Anyway, as any local yokel will tell you, South Dallas is a place to be avoided at all costs (think: East L.A., South Side Chicago, Boston’s Combat Zone etc.). Yet there I was, trundling along…
…and got a puncture which tore my right-hand rear tire to shreds.
Fortunately, it happened about 50 yards before an off-ramp, so I managed to get off the interstate and pull into a service station parking lot, there to await the arrival of roadside service.
Tangent: I know how to change a tire, I’ve done it dozens of times before, but I’m decades older than I was the last time I did it, and as my insurance company provides the service for free… why the hell not?
However, I soon noticed that my environs were not the most salubrious, in that when I went into the little convenience store to get a Coke, the cashier was encased behind what looked like 12″-thick armored glass and stout steel bars. The message was obvious, so I decided to forego the Coke and get back to my car ASAP.
I didn’t get back inside the car because that way I wouldn’t be able to get a 360° view of my surroundings, and more importantly, by standing next to the car I would have easy access to both my trusty 1911 and its backup, should that be necessary.
I waited for about an hour for the roadside service guy, and was only accosted by one scrote who needed a $5 gift “for gas to get to work”, a likely story as he looked like the last time he worked was during the elder Bush presidency. Besides, I wasn’t going to get my wallet out only to be confronted by a knife.
Because if that happened, I’d have to shoot the asshole and then would come the cops, the call to my SCCA attorney, endless paperwork, confiscation of my 1911, forget about keeping my appointment… you get the picture: all that hassle just because I might ventilate someone totally deserving of ventilation.
So I just pointed at my tire-less rim, and snarled that I had my own fucking problems and to leave me the fuck alone.
Which he did, fairly quickly and without any fuss. Clearly, I didn’t look like a potential victim, for some reason.
Anyway, roadside service arrived and put on my “spare” (just a donut, 2,000-word rant omitted ). Except that the donut was flat, despite the assurance from my last oil-change provider whom I’d asked to check on the thing (another 2,000-word rant omitted, but he just lost my business). Fortunately, road service guy had one of those little quick-pump thingies which took care of the problem right there, so off I went, late for my appointment, but buoyed by the certain knowledge that afterwards, I’d have to stop by Discount Tires to get a replacement, oh joy, because there was no way the donut would get me the fifty-odd miles home, on said Dallas-area freeways where you get run off the road for daring to drive at only 70mph.
Anyway, I told you all that so I could tell you this.
Two days ago, I got an email which featured one of these:
It was the first such ad I’ve ever got in this manner, and if I were a paranoid man…
So the question is — because the coincidence seems a little too strong, even for me — how did these hucksters get my email addy? From the insurance company, or the tire outlet?
Your guesses in Comments.
Afterword #1: I actually already have one of the above in the trunk of the car, but I couldn’t remember when last I charged it up, which is why I relied on the roadside service guy to handle the problem. I did recharge it when I got home.
Afterword #2: I ended up getting four new tires, because apparently the 50,000-mile warranty didn’t cover tires that had passed the 100,000-mile mark some time back. As the tire guy put it: “You’re damn lucky you haven’t had at least two blowouts by now.”
And the only way I was able to afford those four new tires was because of my Readers’ generosity during this, my Last Appeal (which still has a day or so to run, hint, hint ).
