The Thumb

A man at the garage once told me his father could check a tire by pressing his thumb into the sidewall. He'd say, "Four pounds low," and be right. He never used a gauge.

I press. The tire pushes back by some amount.

I've pressed harder. I've pressed all four tires in order, then in a different order. The back left felt soft until I'd done the others, which means I'd gotten tired. I've knelt. I've used the other thumb.

There's a tire shop on Route 9 with a window facing the lot, and I do this there on the first of every month. A kid named Devon works the counter. In August he came out with a gauge, set it on each valve without a word, and wrote the numbers on an index card. It said 31, 29, 34, 22.

The 22 was the one I'd said was fine.

I keep the card on the dash. I still press first. I like to give my thumb a chance.

Devon is a senior. I've asked him to leave the gauge.