Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Changing a flat tire on the side if the road

I've stop to help women, can only think of one old guy I help and that was because he didn't have spare so i drove him and the tire to the next town to get it fixed, then back to his car.

In rural Nevada and Idaho You Have to drive down a 2 track 300 yards to take a leak or some young guys will stop to see if you are OK. It may be my hat.



mike r

On the big highway I’m too scared of getting run over by some dipstick on their cell phone or rolling a doobie to stop and help. Or it turns into a circle jerk and 15 people will stop to watch.

Any other time I’ll stop and help.

tikka,

your neighbor girl is all growed up!

If I have a flat I will drive to a place that can change it.. It ruins the tire and rim but I don't give a fugg.

I just changed over 4 summer tires on rims for mounted winter(studded aggressive tread) tires on my F250. The steel wheels are fuggin heavy too! Nobody came to help me!

I guess Randy Weaver could tell you a thing or two about that.

When I was driving the 18 wheeler I tried twice to help with flat tires. Now, it is not safe for a Big Rig to just pull over on the shoulder of an interstate so these both happened at DOT scales where you have to pull in and stop anyway.

The first time, I was leaving the scale, this was about 11 am on a sunny day. Three black ladies standing there on the shoulder of I 85. I pulled over there on the scale exit ramp and went to talk to them.
Yes, they had a flat but they didn't have a spare. They had put in a call and someone was bringing a spare. They were very friendly, maybe a little surprised that a White Boy would offer to help.

The second time was at 10 pm. Pitch black dark. I pulled into the scale, I could see the car right there on the shoulder of the Interstate and could see someone at the wheel, I could see the flat tire.
I walked over in front of the car so I could be seen in the headlights. I walked up towards the driver's door, there was a black lady driving this car. She wouldn't look at me she stared straight ahead. She looked scared. She was fidgeting around in her purse.

And I said to myself, "Big Boy, you better get back to your truck this gal is about to shoot you." And I left.

after that last Yellowstone episode, I'm rethinking the changing of tires on the side of the road.

God knows I love threads like this.
Sometimes it's TMI, but more often just good-hearted stuff.

I learn something from you boys every day.

...and that blonde is a skank.

I'm like Dave Skinner on one of the above post. I look at the threat possibility before I stop. But around here in rural America people help people. I've changer tires for people, went for gas for them or taken them to get gas and boosted off cars for people. But around here you probably know the person and they know you. I'm a lot more cautious when I'm in a strange area.

I was living in a rural neighborhood in Baldwin County Georgia. Very nice houses on 1/2 acre lots on Lake Sinclair.
One night about midnight, I was asleep in bed. There was a knock on the door.

This was really weird I never had any visitors after dark, and especially not at midnight. I looked out the window and the guy on my front porch was a black guy.
That was really weird because I was in an all white neighborhood. This guy had on overalls he looked like a farmer.
I put on my pants, and slipped the Hi Standard .22 mag derringer into my pocket.

I figured if the deal was straight up he would not know I had a gun. If he had two buddies hiding in the bushes, the first guy who charged the door would get two shots in the chest. I figured, the other guys wouldn't know I was out of ammo and they would run off.

I opened the door and the guy, I must say, looked really scared. He said he was a farmer, he had been down to the auction in south Georgia and he had 12 hogs in his trailer. He had run out of gas on Highway 212 which was just 2 blocks away.
Well that sounded like a reasonable story. I stood there talking to him with my hand in my pocket, looking for some bad guys to charge out of the bushes, but none did.

He was asking for a ride to the gas station which was 5 miles away.
I told him I had a fresh gallon of 2 stroke gas for the chain saw. His farm was just 3 miles away. He said that 2 stroke gas was just fine!

I got the gas, we got into my pickup and drove over there, sure enough there in the dark was his pickup on the shoulder of 212, and in the trailer a dozen hogs.
A valuable cargo.
He put the gas in his tank and he was one very grateful guy. He tried to give me ten bucks but I wouldn't take it.

I was his guardian angel that night because he ran a big risk of getting shot by a homeowner in my neighborhood, and also, if he was gone very long he was going to get his hogs stolen.

I would have been scared too knocking on a door that late. Glad it worked out for everyone.

It's real. I have no idea of how prevalent, but it's real. I do know of one incident where some bad actors- bad family with an escaped convict-- stopped to 'help' a family at the side of the road, killed them all and used their car. So being vulnerable can go both ways.

When I see a car on the side of the road if it's just a woman I'll usually stop. With men I probably won't. I did one time between town and house. Two Millennial types with the hood up staring lost into the engine bay. This was rural wyoming and they were headed to salt lake and it was cold. They barely spoke english and they told me they had no AC. Finally I got out of them that they didn't have heat. Well they had lost all their radiator fluid. Sent them to oreilly's and told them to fill it up and buy extra because it was leaking somewhere and while there to check for an obvious and easy fix leak. Later I thought probably should have gone with them, they were probably too stupid to even fill it up. But thankfully the LADIES that work at our oreilly's are pretty knowledgeable and helpful.

I’ve stopped quite a few times to help, been lucky, haven’t had the joy of changing my own flat in a long time.

I stopped for an accident a few years ago. It was late, driving my son home from a basketball game. Guy went off the road a few hundred yards in front of me. Saw a big spray of snow in the air, thought he might have been hurt. Pulled over and he is way down in a ravine. He opens his car door and falls flat on his face in the snow. I call 911 and ask for a police officer and an ambulance. Go down the bank and try to help him. Turns out he's drunk. Help him up to the road and let him wait in the back seat of my SUV while we wait on the police to show up.

Then the fun starts. He says "take me home". I say "No, we will wait on the police". He repeats and repeats and whines like a little baby. I tell him to get out of the car and wait in the cold. He climbs back down the bank and gets in his car and tries to go. He only goes further downhill.

Needless to say, he did get cited for DUI and I had to go to court. Was a real pain but it did leave an impression on my son. He's now of age but never has had a drop of alcohol. Guess I owe that moron a thank you.

My girlfriend and I flew up from Atlanta to Bangor Maine at Christmas. We wanted to see Prince Edward Island. This is a tiny Province off the Atlantic coast. I had read a story about Ann of Green Gables and the story is set on Prince Edward Island.

We flew up to Bangor and rented a Taurus. As we drove that evening, a sure enough Yankee blizzard set in. Out there in the countryside of Maine, you couldn't even see the road, you just knew it was the elevated place, and there were road signs down the bank to the left and telephone poles down the bank to the right.

We had to drive about 4 hours through this blizzard. After about 2 hours, and the snow was a foot deep and snowing like hell, there ahead was a car in the ditch on the right.
I stopped on what seemed like the shoulder and went up to talk to the guys in the car. Turned out it was two couples from Boston. I said "We gotta get you out of this ditch."
In a few minutes, another car came by and I waved them to stop. I told the guy he needed to get out and help us push this car. He agreed.

About that time I saw the girlfriend waving frantically at me. This was a Georgia girl, born and raised in Atlanta. I went back to our Taurus, she was sitting there with the engine idling, the heater on High, and the AM radio on, and she said "I'm listening to the radio it is a Blizzard!! All high school basketball games for tonight cancelled! All church service cancelled for tomorrow!! Screw those Yankees for the Love of God get in the car and let's go before we die!!!!"
I must say the snow was 14 inches deep and climbing fast.

Ah, women, you know how they are. I told her to relax. I went back to the stranded Yankees and soon another car came by, I flagged them down. And that guy agreed to get out and help.

This was in 1990, nobody had cell phones, now for y'all Millennials this is hard to imagine, but, you could not call for help on your Iphone it hadn't been invented yet.
This was way back in another century when passers by would just help a stranger.

So I had one guy from the car in the ditch to drive that car, one guy from that car to push, and the two guys I had flagged down, and the four of us pushed him right out of the ditch.

Throughout the ordeal I tried to keep my Southern accent down I didn't want a Boston Yankee to be embarassed that he had been rescued by a Georgia boy. Biggest snow I ever had seen in Georgia was 2 inches.

Strong work.

Had one on a long bad dirt road (coffee pot for those who know) something blew through the cords, all 6 of them. Had to dig a hole since the Jack was a bit too short one truck stopped. since i had a trailer at the 30 mile marker and the spare was 17 years old and worn I spent good money to get a replacement in Glenwood. lucky the big o was already saving someone else and open late Saturday night. Naturally, no further trouble.

I will give the old Kia's credit for putting a real spare on a matching wheel. No donut or odd steel wheel.

Its been a while since I have stopped for anyone, now I an the old man