If I were a tire, and I found out that I was being shipped to Dar es Salaam, I would run away screaming. I mean, look at this. What on earth does this to a tire?
But we in particular seem to have a particularly bad time with our tires. So bad, in fact, that there was a week last year when we had three flat tires, on three different tires, in one week. So after that I started keeping a log of our flat tires, and here you go:
16 August: back left, new tube
30 August: front left, new tube
2 August: spare patched
13 September: replace front left
13 Setember: back right losing air
5 October: replace back left
10 October: back right patched
4 April: back right, new tube
9 April: front right patched
20 April: front right, new tube
12 May: front right patched
21 May: replace front right (after the road ate it up, see picture above!)
The guys at the tire place recognize us immediately now. We've had to replace some of the bolts on our tires because they've gotten so stripped that they wouldn't come off anymore.
And there's no Triple A here. But still? I have never changed a tire in this country. I pull over, and instantly 2 or 3 strong young men run over to help me. Once I even got a flat on a (short) ferry ride, and the guys had it changed lickety split, in five minutes flat. I drove off the ferry and was on my way.
The roads? Ehhhh.... But the people? YES!