Oh, Mama, can this really be the end....

Had a flat the other day, my first in my "new" car. (My "new" car is seven years old, bought three years ago, as distinct from my pickup truck, who could buy legally buy his own beer if he were a person.) I was tooling along a back road on the way to work, and by the time I felt that something was wrong (it was a rear tire) and found a place to get off the road, the tire was pretty chewed up. As I told my car guys when I called to order a new one, it was "plumb rurnt."

I had found the requisite tools, gotten the little weenie spare out of its covering, and was consulting the owner's manual to doublecheck where to put the jack     when -- ta daa -- a car stopped and the driver offered to help. Ah, the south. Turns out he is a community college student; his girlfriend, riding shotgun, attends my university; and he works on cars for a living. It would have been cruel not to accept his offer. He saved me time and aggravation, and I gave him ten bucks. Well worth it to shorten the time I spent sweating in a church parking lot.

In parting, he said "If I end up in your class, I hope you'll pass me."  Who knows?