So yesterday, I was in a car. I have my license, but I don’t drive, but I know lots of people who do.* My friend and I were just about to get on I5 when a man in a Mercedes going in the opposite direction started honking at us and pointing down at the tire. We pulled off to a side road and saw that the front left tire was almost completely flat, punctured by a piece of broken chain. My friend snowshoes, and she was out on Stevens Pass on Saturday and she probably picked it up there.
The Mercedes man stopped and checked to make sure we were okay, and we thanked him profusely and told him we had the tire-changing kit and we should be fine. We pulled into the parking lot of St. Patrick’s Church, between Harvard and Broadway and Edgar St. Here is what the church and the parking lot look like from space:
It was Sunday, and so services were beginning pretty soon. I felt bad about taking up a spot in the parking lot, but there were other open spots, so we weren’t taking up any space that was necessary for attendees. We started pulling out our jack** and our spare and we realized that the car didn’t have the tire iron thingy to change the lugs on the tire, which I will from here on out refer to as “a wrench.” My friend bought the car used, and the previous owners must have used it and not replaced it. Shit. So we called AAA.
As we waited for AAA to come and help, I noticed something: All the people in the parking lot who were going into St. Patrick’s Church were actively avoiding eye contact with my friend and I, lest we ask the pious churchgoers for help. I began trying to make eye contact with people, and they would literally turn their heads away from us so we wouldn’t have an opening to ask them if we could borrow their wrench to fix our tire. They were too busy getting into church to help people in need.***
We waited. And waited. It began to rain. We got into the car, but left the jack and spare out. Finally, an hour later, mass let out. People began the same eye-avoidance maneuver, only in reverse, back to their cars. I’m pretty sure someone who was an officiant of the mass—or a prominent member of the church based on the way he was shaking hands with people and such—walked quickly by us with his head down, too.
Finally, after almost all the cars had left, one sweet old lady looked over at us and said “Are you getting the help you need?” We said we had help on the way, but if she had a wrench, that would be useful. She opened up her trunk and let us look inside, but it was missing the wrench too.**** And, after we assured her that AAA would be there soon, she left, but not before again wishing that she could be of more help. And a very nice man from AAA came soon after and we were on our way.
But: Seriously, St. Patrick’s Church? An entire massful of people passes by two people in obvious need of assistance twice in the span of an hour and only one sweet old lady bothers to stop and ask them if they need help? Way to be Christian.
In conclusion, if you’re keeping score, here is a charticle box of goodness:
Man in Mercedes: Awesome
AAA employees: Awesome
AAA as an organization: Evil
St. Patrick’s Churchgoers: Not helpful at all
Except for: The nice lady in the Mazda station wagon
* Because it seems necessary to include environmental policy on every post about cars: I’m not so rabidly against driving, although I think we’ve got to do something to make driving more environmentally sound, but I just, personally, find owning a car and driving to be much more stress than it’s worth. It’s why I live in a city. Whatever.
** Incidentally, because I am not so masculine and entirely not car oriented, I would like to proudly point out that I jacked the car up all by myself. Suck my testosterone!
*** And here is where somebody says “Oh, you’re so passive-aggressive you didn’t ask for help, fuck you,” or “The lord helps those who help themselves,” and I say, “I am shy and my friend is shy and we knew we had help on the way.” And after the first two people walked by, it became an interesting social experiment more than anything.
**** I am starting to believe that some ninja is silently breaking into Seattle cars and stealing lug-nut wrenchy things from their trunks. Check to make sure you have yours before you begin any major trips.
Why do you feel the need to qualify being against driving? Why *not* be rabidly against it? You SHOULD BE rabidly against it. Jeez.
I think it’s called a tire iron.
Should be “avoiding eye contact with my friend and ME,” book boy.
Wow. So much for helping your fellow person.
Also, that ninja also visited my car. Luckily there were people who WOULD help at the trailhead I was at.
Man, I know exactly what you mean. I was once in Coulee City on a bicycle tour. I had become pretty dehydrated and exhausted, so I was sitting under a tree in a Safeway parking lot. I was calling home to get a ride and I was also fiddling with my bike. TONS of well-to-do people just walked past and avoided eye contact altogether. Finally, a leather-clad dude from a group of Harley riders came up to me and said “Hey man, are you doing all right?” I said I was fine and had a ride coming.
It struck me especially since I was raised by my parents to think that scuzzy looking people who wear leather and ride motorcycles are bad people, but ladies wearing knit sweaters driving minivans are helpful and caring. NOT SO!
I figure I might as well ask – did you look under the spare tire for the lug-wrench? You say you started pulling out your jack and spare but it’s not clear that the tire came out. The wrenches are usually stored under the spare tire.
Of course it’s possible that a) the old lady had recently murdered her husband using her lug-wrench, which she subsequently disposed of and that b) the old lady formerly owned your friends used car and makes a habit out of that sort of thing.
Your ninja theory has merit. I recently had to re-purchase a lug wrench after mine went inexplicably missing…
Because under any other circumstances Seattlites always make eye contact and run right over and offer to help. I’ve never heard of anyone who as a Christian first and a Seattlite second. I mean come on, this shit is deeply ingrained.
This reminds me of ECB’s mind-reading post about the evil skiing mother who was thinking bad thoughts about bus riders, unaware a Stranger writer was right there within mental scan range.
(Tire iron is a somewhat broad but handy term. It can mean a lug wrench or a lever used to pry tires away from the rim of a wheel, or one of those combination tools that you find in your trunk that works also to work the jack and pound on or pry off your hubcaps. Bicycle tire irons are made of plastic. Jack in Brokeback Mountain was beaten to death with a tire iron. Spoiler.)
5
Bob, you boob- you miss Paul’s point.
All CHRISTIANS are EVIL.
It is not that all people are evil.
Or that Safeway shoppers are evil.
ALL CHRISTRIANS are EVIL!!!!
Try to keep up,
and keep your dumb off topic stories to yourself.
Re: St. Pat’s, remember a lot of people well aware how much they suck go to church, hoping that if they apply something they learn there it may help them behave/feel better. They don’t always pay attention/hear helpful things/act on them/behave better, this not being a mechanical process.
Small comfort that, if these are practicing Catholics, they now feel very guilty.
My flat tire livejournal post: one afternoon last spring, when Lake Shore Drive resembled the surface of the moon in terms of potholes, I hit one dead on and got a flat tire. Pulled off at an exit into a “not very nice neighborhood”. Proceeded to change tire myself (breaking all of my nails in the process, poor me). One guy pulls up beside me, asks if I need help – I say thanks, but I’m actually (surprisingly) doing alright.
As I am almost finished (just about to lower the jack – you know, the easiest part of the whole process), a Hispanic man in his 50s maybe, pulls up behind me and gets out of the car. He insists on finishing the job and literally does not take no for an answer, taking the tire iron from my hands. It was simultaneously really sweet and exceptionally hilarious – this man seemed morally affronted that I, a woman, had been changing my own tire. He seemed as if he was apologizing for the all of man-dom that no one else had insisted upon helping me. I, obviously, thank him profusely for helping, and drove away amused by the different manifestations of machismo.
I wonder if people would have been more likely to help you guys if you had both been women….
Do you look like someone that might go to their church? They probably fear those that look different.
Anyone who would use passive-aggressive in the manner so quoted would be using the word incorrectly. passive-aggressive does not mean passive.
Isn’t the tire iron kept under the driver’s seat?
The sweet old lady DID NOT ask you if you needed help, she asked you if you are “getting the help you need”.
This is minor yet significant. She wasn’t asking to help you, she was performing the lowest common denominator of service: acknowledging a problem without intrinsic involvement in a resolution.
It’s the equivalent of reaching for an imaginary wallet in your back pocket when the bill arrives for your dinner although knowing full well that your parents will stop you and pay it anyway.
Changing a tire is a basic skill. If you don’t have the ability or tools you shouldn’t be driving.
Perhaps the Capitol Hill Tire Iron Ninjas are related to the Capitol Hill Booze Ninjas from a couple years ago?
You know that story, right?
It seems that back in 2006 or so during a one week span there was a series of mysterious robberies at Capitol Hill bars and clubs. Over several nights managers would go to open their establishments only to find that much or all of the top-shelf liquor — and sometimes cash — was missing. It happened at Bill’s, War Room, Rosebud, and R Place, if I’m remembering correctly.
One night, an employee of the Maharaja on Pike (best bar in Seattle, duh) decided after his closing shift that because he was opening the next day he’d nap on a bench in the front. It’s not uncommon.
Something woke him up. He heard bottles in the bar in the back of the restaurant. He went to investigate.
He turned on the light to see four men in black outfits with black ski masks ascending a rope ladder to the roof. They saw him as he grabbed a baseball bat kept in the back for just these types of situations — or for when the bar gets rowdy.
They dropped a box containing several bottles of high-end liquor and sped up the ladder. As the employee — named Lucky — tried to climb up after them they dropped the ladder through the hatch up to the roof.
Lucky dialed 911 and two squad cars arrived shortly afterwards. It was about four AM and the streets were pretty deserted.
With their spotlights the police were able to see the men climing the fence that separates the roof of the Maharaja with that of the War Room next door. After that, they disappeared.
The ninjas never struck again. To this day nobody knows who they are or where they came from, but it’s a legend I’ll always love. And who knows, one day they might return to steal more booze like some reverse Santas.
The use of “snowshoes” as a verb threw me for a loop, but I live in New Orleans we know not of these things.
you two give fags a bad name
lucky you learned to feed yourselves
I’m betting your tire iron was there somewhere, as were the others. Today’s car manufacturers make finding your spare and related tools a puzzle to rival the Sunday Times crossword.
And once they’re out, just try to get them back where they belong.
what kind of wimpy seattle fag can’t change a tire?
@ 14: no, it is usually under/near the spare as pointed out by 6. You keep the N-stick under the front seat.
Sounds like you need a bear in your life, Paul.
The tire iron for my car is actually part of the jack in a kind of complicated way, maybe yours is like that?
@ 15
It was nice enough to inquire, and she did check her trunk to see if she had a tire iron to lend them.
@16
Live and learn. I thought I was prepared to handle a flat until it happened. I was wrestling with the hubcap when someone pulled over and commented that I’d need a star key to take it off. I gave up and called AAA only to learn my hubcap only looked like it needed a star key…some sort of low budget theft deterrent. It was an inconvenience but I learned from it, and that’s how it goes with most things.
My girlfriend’s lug wrench was missing when she had a flat a few weeks ago…
@19 and 21: Paul’s the straight one, idiots.
Go to Les Scwhab. Buy a star or a tire iron. Put it in your trunk box or somewhere you can find it easily. Make sure it actually fits the lug nuts on your car.
@Everyone: I swear, there was no tire iron to be found. Not under the tire, not under a seat, not anywhere. We looked. The spot where it should be was empty. The AAA guy was the same way, but he found the spot he thought the tire iron would be, and it was missing.
@27
Ha- that’s a good one!
see also: Better World Club – like AAA, but without the anti-public-transit lobbying
This is not a proper LJ post without somebody complaining that this is too tealdeer and asking you to put it behind a cut.
@17: YES! YES! I remember that shit! I was working at Bill’s the day after and we had no idea what the fuck happened. The police told us about the “ninjas” a couple weeks later! Did they ever catch the guys?
@28, that is exactly what I ended up having to do after mine disappeared (though I went to Shucks).
@24, not all are part of the jack. I like the star-shaped ones, better, anyway.
@21, as someone who’s changed a bunch of tires, it’s pretty hard to do without a lugwrench.
You’re lucky you found a place to pull over where you wouldn’t be a target. I had the same thing happen last week on I5 near northgate, and pulled over while pulling out the tire changing gear. Had a number of fools come within a few feet of me while I was jacking up the car, and I was a good 3 feet beyond the right shoulder line. The WSDOT incident response guy, however, deserves a coolness medal for pulling over and providing assistance. He agreed that the stupidity of freeway drivers is hard to calculate.
The assclown quotient of commuters is on a steep rise. Do what @31 (and myself) did and switch to better world club.
#27…the term fag for me and many others isint a sexual descripton it’s a term for wussiness and incompitence
It is ANNOYINGLY common for used cars to come without lug wrenches. I don’t know where they go, but they clearly go somewhere. My pickup didn’t come with a wrench or a jack. sigh. A big old socket and a breaker bar now ride around behind the seats.
The guy who I bought my Vanagon from actively pointed out that it DID come with an iron and jack! yay!
NONE of the three Commutacars I have came with their spare tires…let alone any tools.
@36: that’s an excuse that will fly over here, really…
how’s this for an asshole move? I sold a car to someone with a spare that will never fit (long story). I only hope the poor bastard never has a flat.
Is this something for I, anonymous?
So you spent a couple hours in a church parking lot staring people down while not making it obvious that you needed help? Genius. You must be so proud of yourselves for exposing the selfishness of society.
#27
Yeah, so you think …. there are signs …. no lug skills is one of them, note this time and place.
And why are we idiots cause he is a big fat sissy and therefore a presumptive fag? As in HEY FAGGOT. Not all bad, just fags puts out in different ways, also mechanical, just not wrenched.
Better than not coming with a lug wrench is coming with a lug wrench that the dealer tossed in the trunk that doesn’t fit your nuts. That way you think you’re covered until the day you actually need it. Bonus points for finding out on that same day that a previous owner had replaced your standard wheels with some kind of jazzy wheels that require a special lug wrench with ultra-thin walls that your AAA tow-truck driver doesn’t have, either.
That’s how a simple flat turns into two new tires and two new wheels and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t know I needed. Damn car repair people can see me coming.
Mike in MO @39: Was the spare really necessary to seal the deal? I’d be happier buying a car if I knew it didn’t have a spare than having the wrong spare in it. Just wondering what the thought process was.
@24: I thought of that, too, but the jack didn’t have a tire iron as part of it.
@36: So you calling me a fag is as politically incorrect as me calling you a retard, then? How about “fuck you?” Is that politically correct enough? It’s a slow day at Slog and there’s plenty of time for troll-feeding.
It’s well-established that religious people are no more like to give assistance to strangers in need than anybody else. Probably the most famous study about it is described here: http://faculty.babson.edu/krollag/org_si…
Mind you, as an atheist I probably wouldn’t have helped you either. Nothing personal, I just got stuff to do.
One day a couple of summers ago I was shopping at Pike Market and somebody tried to steal my scooter. In doing so, they broke something off in the ignition. This made it impossible for me to unlock the front fork. I didn’t have a car, or know anybody with a truck, and I couldn’t afford to have it towed. I had to carry/drag my 170 lb scooter from the market all the way up to my apartment which was in the general area of the Broadway market.
I am a 5′ tall woman and not exactly the strongest physical specimen. Nobody offered to help – despite the fact that it was a nice day and there were tons of people walking past. It was as though I were completely invisible. It sucked and it kind of broke my heart too.
A few months ago I (a man) was shopping with my family at the Ikea near Chicago. Somehow we had left the lights on in the car, and so the battery was dead when we tried to start it. I walked back over to the area where people were loading their cars with boxes and asked the first person I saw (happened to be a man) if he had jumper cables. He said he did, and after he finished loading up his car he pulled up to our car and we had it running within minutes. When you are a man and you have a problem with your car, the proper etiquette is to politely ask someone for help, not to try to make eye contact. Passersby will help if they can under such circumstances unless they feel that somehow you are trying to scam them. Most folks assume that men will ask for help if they need it, especially if there are two of them. How about next Sunday you go back to that parking lot at the same time, get out of your car, grab at your chest and fall down? I’ll bet those uncaring religious folks would sprint over to you and five of them would have already called 911 on their cellphones before you hit the ground. Or why don’t you instead stage the same flat tire and then actually ask someone for help? And then go ahead and write another blog post about the results. Seems like the fair thing to do after posting a photo of the church.
Thanks for the plug Paul. That one tiny link to my AAA is evil post has increased my traffic tremendously for the last couple of days.
Oh, and becoming handy enough to do things like change your own tires is learnable. I have been able to do such things for many years but have also progressed to doing my own plumbing and around the apartment repairs, my own oil changes, brake pad replacements (still with my father-in-law’s supervision just to reduce the risk of that one). It can make one feel quite self-sufficient to be able to perform such tasks. Good start.
Oh, and as #1 points out, being rabidly against driving, or at least against any more driving than necessary is not a bad thing.
The jack handle often serves as a tire iron/lug wrench. You didn’t overlook that, did you?
And I think the good people didn’t offer to help because they were in their sunday best, and changing tires is a very messy proposition. They didn’t want to offend God by showing up grimey, that week or the following one.
Assuming that your tire iron was indeed missing, and not just hidden in the design of the jack, you’d probably then have discovered that your spare was flat, since they do that unless you check the periodically.
@8
Incorrect, people from Mars Hill Church would give you a tire iron and then crucify you with it.