The tire shop overflows with people stories.

There was the decked out Z71 with oversized wheels. Totally dressed to the nines. Within spitting distance of the cost of my first home. Proud profiled owner in his mid 30s. 

Next to me parked the elderly couple and their decades old Impala with no a/c. “Please wait in your car until our rep gets to you” wasn’t working for them.

The “just a tad” stressed mom bided her time inside. Navigating a masked phone call while corralling her two mountain goat wannabes. Tire displays beg to be climbed.

I sat there waiting for my car to be outfitted with a smooth riding set that truly lasts 60,000 miles. Pure fantasy.

Tires cross every barrier we’ve erected. Education. Ethnicity. Economics. Matters not. If you want to go, you need tires.

Tire shops cut away the diversity revealing one common desire. A place where the functional meet flair-loving. The climbers sit next to the descenders. All longing to purchase perfection.

Heaven will be like your local tire shop. More diverse than any urban setting. More noisy than jacks and air wrenches but in a good way. 

Full of people with the same need. Same desire. Same prayer.

People who want to go on. Never wear out. Round and round and round. Forever.

Heaven people discovered how forever works. Actually, they discovered Who.
They discovered Jesus.

Jesus knows tires. He knows your heart. He’s got you covered. 

You’re always welcome at His shop. 

And He’s got a lifetime warranty.