tirehead
by Karl Nykwest
Everybody’s got to have a thing.
At least, that’s what my buddy Cheddar Romero used to say. Mine’s wearing a tire.
I was just over 16 when I first started seriously entertaining the idea. I saw a guy at the Costco’s wearing a narrow cross-ply around his waist. Don’t ask me what kind of tire it was. I don’t remember. The tread was too narrow for a motorcycle, but wider than a dirt bike. Regardless of the details, that was the moment everything changed. Up until that point, choosing a thing was only ever something I’d overheard adults talking about. Seeing this changed me. I did some reading the second I got home and got hooked fast.
I spent many nights taking into consideration the various aspects of the lifestyle: What sort of tire I would choose, the method of tightening, would I wear it around the waist like most, or would I go for a more modern over-the-shoulder “toga” style? All questions that weighed on my teenage mind– and this is to say nothing of the general encumbrance. A fitted tire can weigh in excess of 20lbs. It’s nothing to shrug off.
It was two years before I finally took the plunge. I settled for a Kenda Hellkat Pro mountain bike tire, worn over the shoulder and fitted with ratchet belts. It was the least invasive option for my lifestyle. I could wear it out to dinner, and it went nicely with a clean pair of pressed slacks at job interviews, while also staying comfortable.
Both my parents are into All American Paints, (Mom’s a Latex-Roller and Dad’s Spray-Hander) so I was a little anxious about telling them I would not be doing the same, but they were surprisingly relaxed about my choice. As an avid biker, my father actually showed a keen interest in the quality of the tire I chose. And though I think he would have preferred I had gone with an American brand like Goodyear, he had a couple buddies who worked out of Kenda’s facility in Columbus, so he never made much fuss about it. My mother and sisters were equally supportive. They actually helped me build out my wardrobe, so I wouldn’t be pigeonholed into one tire for all occasions. Thanks to them, I currently have an entire collection of assorted Kenda Hellkat Pros, some dyed brown or bleached for church functions. Others, we decorated in light blues and yellows for summer vacationing with the boys. I even have ones with studs and rhinestones for whenever I go out clubbing or am just feeling playful.
A few of my friends dropped off after I chose my thing, but I didn’t take it personally. Our lives were just on separate paths. The ones that stayed were the ones that mattered. And really, by that point, I had already found a whole community of support in the other tireheads. (Yes, a lot of people my age tend to prefer the more modern Tire Goblin, or even Rubberhound but I’m old school.)
The pit club I usually go to is a place called Axel’s two towns over. My first time there, I swear it was more crowded than Cappy’s on game night, and I was naturally a little overwhelmed by the prospect of meeting so many new people at once, but Old Knox talked me down and introduced me to everyone. They were a great bunch of folks. Sure, a few of them only started going there because of their Lane Assignment, but even they seemed to have grown to like it. A year in, and I was even able to convince Potzy to come to one of our speed dating events. He didn’t match with anyone, but that was kind of expected. He still had a good time, which was all he and I cared about.
Truth be told, a lot of tireheads tend to date other tireheads. Not always, but often. It’s probably just easier to be with someone you’re compatible with– not that compatibility is straightforward either. Go to any tirehead joint and you’ll see a whole host of combinations. Yeah, it’s pretty common to see treads dating riders, but there’s more to it than that. Take me for example: I’m a dualcomp, but I tend to prefer riders too, and Old Knox? She likes rims. It’s a multifaceted situation.
Overall, I’m feeling pretty fulfilled. They say there’s a loneliness epidemic out there among men, but if there is, it’s not anywhere near my doorstep. We’re an active enough community that there’s usually something different going on each weekend with a handful of different groups. It can actually be difficult to keep up with it. Last month alone, I was invited to like five different parties, all but two of which landed on different weekends. That might not sound like much, but when you look at it on your calendar app, you realize you’ve given up all your Saturdays for the next four weeks. I ended up having to cancel on Mondo Ray. He was debuting his new 8 Ply Carlisle Tractor tire, so naturally he was pretty bummed I wasn’t there, but as much as having a thing means having a reality to share with people, it also means having to cancel on them from time to time.
And of course, it’s also an exemption from Lane Assignment too, and I can’t tell you how much of a fricking relief that is. I remember when my sister turned 25 and was called up for Lane Assignment, because she still hadn’t chosen a thing. She was on stage, and had drawn electric unicycling, when they finally tracked down the mislaid ADHD and depression diagnosis she had submitted. They ended up granting her an exemption for her condition, under the expressed understanding that she posts long and short form content about it regularly and submits to yearly audits by the Self-Optimization Office to make sure she was staying in her lane and that her thing was adequately externalized.
This last year, she and I went along to give Cheddar and Potzy some moral support at their Lane Assignment and I’ll be damned if they didn’t need it. Patina-Jane– that’s Potzy’s girl– she nearly fainted when they called her name. And she got lucky. She drew Medieval Fantasy Shit. She LARPS and posts about it constantly now, but that doesn’t bother me. I kind of like wyverns anyway.
Potzy, being the generally lucky and morbid bastard that he is, got assigned to true crime podcasts, and is currently workshopping names for his own foray into the burgeoning art form.
Cheddar got boned of course. He had submitted a thing at the last minute, but the board told him his interest in the sharp Vermont cheese of his namesake was somehow both too basic and “not adequately niche” enough to be considered a thing. Forced to draw, he pulled extreme ironing– as if we even have the kind of topography for that around here. He didn’t speak the entire ride home.
We took him out for a beer afterward and I reassured him we would still call him Cheddar regardless of how the day’s events turned out. He nodded and accepted our condolences, and after a couple rounds, we agreed to help him pick out an iron and board at Walmart later that weekend. I’ll admit to a certain degree of avarice here; I was planning on heading to the Dicks next door anyway to check out some of Kenda’s latest models, but I didn’t share this with Cheddar. He needed his people. Even when you get screwed in your Lane Assignment, it's important to remember you can still go offroad occasionally– you just have to make sure it doesn’t affect your self-op score, because the office will audit you for it.
As that night wore on, Cheddar got hammered, and I ended up having to drive him home. He passed out the second he got into the passenger’s seat and slumped onto me after a sharp turn. One of the advantages to wearing your tire toga-style, is that if the person in the seat next to you falls asleep and leans over onto you, you have a rubber barrier for their head to land on. If you couldn’t tell already, being a tirehead has its practical sides as well.
When I shuffled him out of my truck, Cheddar shared with me he was thinking of abstaining from his lane entirely. I’m not usually one to tell anyone else how to live their life, but I did warn him that those who abstain usually get caught, and that the Self-Optimisation Office would likely stiff him with some dreg of a thing, like work, or other people’s business. (Neither of which, let me tell you, have particularly good social clubs.)
After seeing him safely off, I headed out to Axel’s. It was late, but after the day, I’d had I just needed to be around other Tireheads. Lane Assignment can be brutal, but everyone’s got to have a thing. That’s just the way it is.
Photo of Karl Nykwest
BIO: Karl Nykwest spends his time co-running a small film and video production studio by day, and writing by night; usually something in the neighborhood of low fantasy, magical realism, or speculative weird lit. His work has been published in House of Long Shadows and Roi Fainéant Press. When he’s not buried in a screen, he’s usually enjoying cooking, or being outdoors.