Stephanie and Juan

On the way home last thursday...

Long story:
They were stuck on the side of the freeway on about a seven-foot berm. Thankfully, this berm was next to a bulging lane that grew into two lanes (an exit lane) not far ahead. Since there was a guard rail on the edge of the berm (such that I couldn't get next to them for a jump), I resigned to calling a tow truck for them.
I whipped out my AAA card and spent the next ten minutes on hold.
When at last I got through, they informed me that they should be there in no more than 45 min.
Good.
But I wasn't about to do nothing for 45 min. So I hopped back in my car and went up the exit ramp to where it joined a one-way street. I turned the car around and drove very slowly back down the berm of the exit ramp with my hazard lights on until I was close enough to the other car to give it a jump. I used my recently-acquired knowledge to safely hook up the batteries...
No dice.
So I had to drive backward all the way back up the exit ramp on a berm that was barely wide enough for the car, while really trying not to get hit by cars and not hit the guard rail. All in all it wasn't as difficult as in sounds, considering that I was really under no time constraint. It was a very unique experience.
I got the car turned around, parked, and jogged back to the Stephanie and Juan.
Well ahead of schedule, the AAA tow truck now arrived. He says he can only take two people.
Perfect, I think, he can take Stephanie and Juan. Except that I'm the one with AAA membership.
But so long as they don't need to pay with check or credit, I am off the hook because the tow truck driver has already seen my membership card. Thankfully, they had cash.
I bid my temporary companions farewell and we parted ways.

Long story short:
I got compete strangers towed with my AAA card.

The guy in the mini van

Sunday night:
Him: I'm not sure what's wrong, I think it might be my alternator. My lights started flickering and then the engine died. It could be the battery.
Me: Do you want to jump it?
Him: I'm not sure it will do any good, but we can give it a try.
I backed up my car beside his, break out the jumper cables from my emergency kit from Driver's Edge (so glad to have that thing), and hand them to him. I popped the hood and he got to work while I mostly just stood there because I didn't know to do, and he seemed to have it under control. He hooked the batteries up and gave it a go and it started fine. He unhooked the cables from his mini van which kept running, thankfully. He thanked me, and we got back on the road.
I got home and asked my dad what order you hook things up so I'll know for next time!

Riding High

So, a few months ago, I stopped on my way home late at night.
The woman had a flat tire.
As is turns out, she drives for a living and was her sixth flat tire of the year, and had not had to change any of the other five.
I'd only ever changed one flat tire in my life up to this point, so I made a some mistakes that made it take longer than it otherwise would have.
After 15-20 minutes, I managed to send her on her way.
I started driving home, riding high, feeling good about myself because of what I did.
Here's where the real learning started.
I saw what appeared to be another car in distress.
Viscerally, I rejected the inclination to go over there. I didn't want to stop again. Whoever it was, I didn't want to have to help them.
After a few seconds I realized that I didn't have to after all, because what had appeared to be someone turning on their hazard lights way up the road was actually someone tapping on their brakes.
I was free to go home unbothered, and did, but I was no longer riding high. I knew that I wasn't the saint I wanted to think I was. I knew that mostly what I wanted out of stopping was to have an experience to make me feel like I was a good person. I wanted to get home and have people pat me on the back.
I'm not a saint. I'm not really even a Good Samaritan. For now I'm just OK.

Joe

Joe is from Ghana.

He left Ghana about 10 years ago and moved to Italy. Then to the US. Then back to Italy. Then he got a visa and moved back to the US and got married. 

Now Joe works at Walmart. He was driving home from work on Wednesday morning (around 8 am) and he got a flat tire. 

Providentially, he got his flat tire close enough to my exit that I was already in the rightmost lane, so I could actually get to him without merging across four lanes of rush-hour traffic. 

Joe had no spare, so I just drove him home, which made me half an hour late for a class in which I was supposed to turn in homework at the beginning of class. I received grace from the teacher on that point.

A couple of hours later I received a call on my cell.

It was Joe. He'd gone out, bought a tire, changed it, and drove his car home (all after coming home from work at 8 in the morning! I don't know how long he'd been up, but he's a trooper). He called to let me know that his problem was now resolved. 

You know, I think Joe is more thoughtful than I am.

"I have a bucket stuck under my car."

Her: "I have a bucket stuck under my car."
Standing outside the driver's door, I look down.
There's a shattered, orange plastic salt bucket sticking out from under the minivan.
I kick it out of the way, behind her car.
Me: "Is that it? Do you need anything else?"
Her: "That's it. Thank you."
I start jogging back to my car.
Me: "'I have a bucket stuck under my car.' I'll never hear that line again."

FAQ:
Q: Why didn't she just pull the bucket out herself?
A: She said the bucket was originally stuck under the front of the car. She pulled forward and back a few times and managed to almost dislodge it, though she didn't know it.

Q: Then what was she planning on doing in the meantime?
A: She'd called her husband for help.