So I'm sitting on the balcony of my hotel room smoking my pipe and enjoying a cocktail when a minivan pulls up and parks at the curb. Seems it has a flat, and Dad has to call roadside assistance. Someone else in a station wagon, a friend, evidently, pulls up a few minutes later to "rescue" his family from this distress and the guy waits about 30 minutes until a kid in a Scion xB pulls up to help him change his flat.
Who the hell has to call roadside assistance for a FLAT?
Showing you can change a tire ought to be a requirement for getting a driver's license.