The Price I Paid For Free Tires
To say I was strapped for cash was an understatement. It was the early ’80s, my job at a factory didn’t pay much, and I liked to wheel—a lot. The perpetual wheeling translated to a lot of broken and worn out stuff on my daily-driven ’77 IH Scout. This had a way of sucking up vast amounts of cash, even though I completed most repairs in my father-in-law’s farm shop. One time, my wife and I had vacation time from our jobs all set up, but no real plan what to do with it. A few days prior to our vaca, I announced to my wife that I thought it would be a great idea if we loaded up our old, rusty-whereyou-can’t-see-it, halfrestored Scout and travel from our home in Illinois to…