Gym...or Tire Shop?

I went into my basement this morning to walk on the treadmill that Shelley (Naturelover), and her husband handed down to me many years ago. I turned on ESPN, and started to walk.

5 minutes into the walk...the machine either burped, belched, or farted. Quite loudly. Then, it began squealing like a little piglet...and finally ground to a halt. Walk over...machine probably done.

What to do now? 2 options. 1. Buy a new treadmill. 2. Join a gym.

In our little town, we have 4 gym choices. Since this one is near my house...I stopped here first. A guy with no neck greeted me at the desk.

"How ya doin pardner?" (I hate it when somebody calls me pardner. Does he think I drove up on my horse?)

"I'm doing fine. Where is all your equipment?"

"Tires...we got tires, son." (I hate it when a guy that's WAY younger than me calls me son. Does he see my white hair...does he see my bi-focals?)

"Tires are great, but no treadmills...no stair-steppers...no weights?"

"We used to have all that. Our motto was...You never wait on our weights. But...our PR guy thought we should go with tires. Our new motto is...You'll never tire of our tires. Whaddya think of that...Hoss?" (I hate it when people call me Hoss. Do I look like I come from Arkansas?)

"OK, thanks for the info. I'm going to check out my other options. I'll...uh...uh...probably get back with you."

"You do that...pardner...you go searchin 'round...but think of this. When you watch those strong-man contests on the TV...watch the little ladies in the stands when the big boys go for the tires. They love them some tire boys. Think about that son...you just think about that."

Believe what you will...but my treadmill DID go ker-plunk.