In the capacity of a writer, my zeal to gain traction along a backstory led me to veer roadside in the 1920s. Captivating as the Roarin’ 20s may be, I was not scouting for tidbits about Prohibition, flappers, bootlegging, speakeasies, or gangsters.

To be exact: a 1920 Ford Model T Runabout roadster and 1921 Ford Model T Tudor sedan. What I came across pertaining to fixing a flat on a tubed tire back then, blew my mind.

After extracting what I needed to authenticate a scene in Chapter 9 of my Contemporary work in progress, I’ve since gained traction in my mind to unearth a few memories about “tires”.

In the early – mid ‘60s, I recall my dad fitting snow chains on the rear tires of our Plymouth Suburban station wagon. It was an on-and-off proposition throughout the winter season. While passengers in the back seat, my sister and I endured the constant clunking sound when the chains made contact with sections of dry pavement. Perhaps the drone quelled arguments stemming from our fatal attraction to each other.

When studded snow tires were phased out, and non-studded, radial winter tires rolled in during the ‘70s, I recall having them mounted and dismounted by a mechanic at the gas station.

In the here and now, I’ve gained traction just fine in my neck of New England with all-season tires on an AWD. I don’t need to weigh the options of mounting/dismounting snow tires or winter tires for holding my own on the roads ahead.

*May each of us gain traction along familiar terrain, and on roads not yet taken.

My sincere appreciation if you’ve read this far.

Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w