I used to be very easily defeated by car troubles. I felt personally affronted, even persecuted, by the nail in the tire, the blinking light on the dashboard, the heart-thudding engine glug on that morning I was racing late for work. Some years back when I was learning to fend for myself, I answered the call of the coupon from Island Tire. This garage turned out to be more than a tire warehouse; for me it's been a lifesaver.
Maybe it was the time I needed tires for the Honda. I was wary about buying them anyplace because I had no confidence or tire prowess. I just had a generalized anxiety disorder regarding Tire Salesmen, men I pictured in blocky white shirts with skinny black ties, hornrims, and the clairvoyance to read my ignorance. But I compelled myself to visit Island. Here I met the man known only as JOSE (so it says in red on his business card). I was nervous about joining his "tire club," which was some kind of enrollment that offers a fixed rate for oil changes and tune-ups. "Scam," whispered one little voice on the left. "Desperate," whispered the other, more sotto voce on the right. I went with the right and there began a regular, very beneficial automotive relationship. It wasn't a scam. It was a solution!
Just before Thanksgiving Day my battery died on Foothill Blvd. Luckily I was curbside, but unluckily I could not get through to AAA. So I walked down to Island and located Jose. I explained my little tragedy and he took time immediately to drive me over to the car, charge it, and then replace the battery back at the shop. Yes, to the world it's just a car battery, but to me his assistance represents community as well. It's a giant comfort to know you can solve a pesky problem with the help of someone reliable. As I drove my functioning car onto Colorado Blvd., I thanked the universe for allowing me to problem-solve in Pasadena.
I have steered a couple of lady friends to Island. One of them told me she had been to Paradise and she was very happy with it. For a moment I thought this was an allusion to mature romance, but then she gushed about Jose. My Jose! Call the place what you wish. Island Tire just may be that oasis we all need on occasion.
2754 E. Colorado Blvd.