A few nights ago I had a flat tire. My co-worker and I had just left our place of employment and had made it about three blocks when . . . k-thud, k-thud, k-thud, k-THUD. “Crap,” I said (edited for content). There’s no mistaking the sound of a flat tire—it’s like a jet engine coming in for a landing on your head or something. Anyway, I pulled into some corporate parking lot and stopped. My co-worker and I were starting to get out of the car—to check on the damage—when this guy hopped out of his truck and eagerly shuffled over.
“Do you have a spare and a phone?” he asked, cheerfully. He was short, bald, and looked like the Commish.
“Um, yeah.” I said, bewildered that anyone had even noticed our predicament already. I had not even had time to panic, and believe me, I would have. Changing tires by yourself is one thing, but when I have an audience, I tend to choke up a little.
“Okay,” the guy said, smiling. “I’ll change it for you.”
So I opened the trunk for him. He withdrew the spare from the pool of water in the bottom and started to work. After a second, he turned to me. “You guys should get in the car,” he said. “You’ll be warmer in the car.”
It was cold, so we didn’t argue. We climbed back in, then sat talking quietly and giggling while he jacked up the car. It was like being on one of those kiddie rides at the zoo. The whole time I kept my foot jammed down on the brake, so the car wouldn’t fall and crush our good Samaritan like a freakin’ Muppet. After about three minutes, the guy finished up the car and handed me the lug nut that had broken off. The post was still in it.
The spare was just a donut, so it would have been rough going anyway (we have a forty-five minute commute, and most of it is on a 70 mph highway). And with the lug nut and post missing, there was no way we were going to chance driving back home. So Nick—dear, loyal, handsome, lovable Nick—drove from Lawrence and picked us up, after which we caravanned to a tire store.
When we got inside, he turned to me in disbelief. “I can’t believe you let that guy change your tire when you know how to do it. Why didn’t you just do it yourself?”
I practically snorted. “Yeah, like I’m going to change it myself if someone is willing to do it for me. Besides, it was cold and rainy.”
“Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t have stopped if it’d been two guys.”
(a beat)
I couldn’t let this go, of course. “Oh come on,” I protested. “He was just being chivalrous. A lot of guys are like that. It’s the way their mothers taught them to behave. It may be a little archaic, but it doesn’t mean he had lascivious intent.”
“No, it’s because he saw two young women in need and thought he could scam a phone number.”
“Well, he didn’t ask for my phone number.”
“That’s cause he saw the ring on your finger.”
“So what? I’m a girl with a flat tire and suddenly…BAM…instant auto club?”
He didn’t answer. He’d already made his point, and deep down I knew it could be true. And it started me thinking. I was pulled over not long ago, and the policeman let me off with a warning. Do I care what the reason was? Do I care if it was my intoxicating, girl-geek pheromones, or his deferential attitude toward women in general, or just that he’d already written enough tickets that day and didn’t want to bother with it? Besides, if I’m truly the beneficiary of outmoded paternalistic kindnesses, what should I do to prevent it? Should I say, “I’m sorry, officer, I feel I deserve that ticket”? Should I say, “No, thanks, my good man. I’ll be changing that tire myself, thank you very much. Good day, sir. I said good day, sir!” No way in Hades is that going to happen. Not when it’s cold and rainy and I’m lazy like I am. After all, I would have let a woman change my tire, too. I’m an equal opportunity slacker.
So there it is. Some may call me a hypocrite. But I’m really just incredibly lazy.
Car update: Today my car is making a sound like a theremon when I hit the accelerator at highway speeds. WHEEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE. It’s like a science fiction movie is being filmed under my hood. Will the fun never end?