Among my manifold ill-considered life choices, I also own a British car that, with a passing grade on the citizenship quiz, is old enough to vote. Oh, and it not only has that notorious Limey quirkiness, it also has tires(or tyres) that are of such an odd size that most people I contacted said, «Call back when you get the size right. It’s on the side of the tire.» Click. Jim and his guys fixed the tyre(or tire) and figured out a size that would work on the old battleship and was in stock. That’s way better than the other five hundred places I called. Even had a few of the tire monkeys stay late so I could pick up the repair prior to the weekend. Thanks!