I'm Such a Girl
I heard a strange noise coming from my car yesterday as I pulled up to a stoplight. It was new and interesting enough that I decided to stop and check on it, thinking it was probably not normal. So I pulled in to a gas station, parked, and got out to check. My brilliant scientific mind quickly concluded that the noise was probably related to the complete lack of air in my back right tire. I knew there had been some pieces of something that looked like rubber in the road a couple of stoplights back, but I thought I had avoided hitting them. Apparently, I did not.
So, I did what I thought any normal person would do. I sat down on the curb next to my car and called my Dad. (Mind you, he lives 1800 miles away.) He confirmed, based on my description, that my tire was indeed flat and I did in fact have to put the spare on. Now, I have seen this done (and even helped a couple of times!) so I just proceeded to start pulling all my worldly possessions out of my trunk in order to get to the spare. I pulled out the spare doughnut, the jack, and the long contraption used to remove the nuts from the tire. Like any normal person, I also pulled out my car owner's manual to read the tire changing procedure.
So picture me, sitting on the curb next to my car with the flat tire. The spare tire and associated accessories are on the lawn next to me and my nose is pressed firmly into my tire-changing instructions. During this time I swear to you, no fewer than 20 people passed by me, looked at me, and continued on their merry way. From the time I first parked and noticed the completely uninflated tire on my car it took 15 minutes for someone to stop and offer to help.
By that time, of course, I had chickened out of changing the tire on my own. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to find the right place to put the jack, the car would manage to fall on my head (despite my firm rule never to place my head beneath a car or other heavy object), and I have pretty crappy university health insurance unlikely to cover such accidents. So I was a total girl and called someone to come help me. And to make it all a little more embarrassing, the only person I could call that lived within about a 30 minute drive from where I was was my officemate, whom I don't really like. (He's actually the one that stole my summer class). So I had to call him and his new wife on a Saturday evening and see if he could come hold my hand through the changing of my tire. Mortifying. Anyway, officemate+wife showed up about 30 seconds after a kind stranger finally offered his help.
I have to admit, I was pretty irritated that no one else ever offered to help me. I fully realize this is attitude of mine is ridiculous as I should have been capable of changing a damn tire by myself. I shouldn't have needed help (even if I did end up wimping out). But still. I think it's just common courtesy to offer help. I don't think it's asking too much. Alas, I don't live in the South anymore, so evidently it is asking too much.
So, I did what I thought any normal person would do. I sat down on the curb next to my car and called my Dad. (Mind you, he lives 1800 miles away.) He confirmed, based on my description, that my tire was indeed flat and I did in fact have to put the spare on. Now, I have seen this done (and even helped a couple of times!) so I just proceeded to start pulling all my worldly possessions out of my trunk in order to get to the spare. I pulled out the spare doughnut, the jack, and the long contraption used to remove the nuts from the tire. Like any normal person, I also pulled out my car owner's manual to read the tire changing procedure.
So picture me, sitting on the curb next to my car with the flat tire. The spare tire and associated accessories are on the lawn next to me and my nose is pressed firmly into my tire-changing instructions. During this time I swear to you, no fewer than 20 people passed by me, looked at me, and continued on their merry way. From the time I first parked and noticed the completely uninflated tire on my car it took 15 minutes for someone to stop and offer to help.
By that time, of course, I had chickened out of changing the tire on my own. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to find the right place to put the jack, the car would manage to fall on my head (despite my firm rule never to place my head beneath a car or other heavy object), and I have pretty crappy university health insurance unlikely to cover such accidents. So I was a total girl and called someone to come help me. And to make it all a little more embarrassing, the only person I could call that lived within about a 30 minute drive from where I was was my officemate, whom I don't really like. (He's actually the one that stole my summer class). So I had to call him and his new wife on a Saturday evening and see if he could come hold my hand through the changing of my tire. Mortifying. Anyway, officemate+wife showed up about 30 seconds after a kind stranger finally offered his help.
I have to admit, I was pretty irritated that no one else ever offered to help me. I fully realize this is attitude of mine is ridiculous as I should have been capable of changing a damn tire by myself. I shouldn't have needed help (even if I did end up wimping out). But still. I think it's just common courtesy to offer help. I don't think it's asking too much. Alas, I don't live in the South anymore, so evidently it is asking too much.
posted by Meredith | 6:19 PM
5 Comments:
Classic case of diffusion of responsibility! Everyone thought someone else would stop.
i would not even BEGIN to try to change my tire myself. that is what men are for, and i am not afraid to say it. calling in reinforcements was the Right Thing. now you know, as a Southern woman, you have to bake that guy something for coming to your rescue whether you like him or not. that is what we do.
I wouldn't begin to know how to change a tire! That's what other people are for. And I second the baking something. That was right nice of him!
Why do all of your comments have feet beside them?
Those are feet? I thought they were flowers. Perhaps I will have to look into that.
I had to change my own tire once....in the desert....in New Mexico....in the summer....on MY NEW CAR....
Unfotunately it involved laying on I-40, on the driver's side, you know the one closest to the DRIVING LANE! Yea 100 degrees July, no one stopped until I had the new tire already on the car. I counted 18 semi's that sped past my head less than 4 feet away.
The best part - I can't decide really, the fact that over the next hill was state tropper sitting there or the guys who stopped on their way from Mexico saying to me "Hey, you should have called us sooner" I want what they were on. ;-) Glad you called someone though, that crap is just a PAIN IN THE ASS.
oh and P.S. I had to read my owner's manual too....in the desert...;-)
Post a Comment
<< Home