Spring 1981. University of Missouri-Rolla.
My good friend, Karl Cornelius, and I were heading out to the parking lot just after dusk having spent a long day in classes. We were just kids—18, 19 years old. Arriving at the lot we noticed a very inebriated lady, fumbling with her keys and struggling to open the trunk of her car. The rear tire on the passenger side was flat. It was late and there were only three cars in the lot– mine, Karl’s, and this drunken lady’s. Ever the Good Samaritans, we offered to help. The lady gave us her keys and we went straight to work. Popped open the trunk and pulled out the spare tire, jack, and lug wrench. The lady was all too happy to have us help out. She sprawled out across the car hood while we worked away. Karl was the first to dive in. He attempted to turn the lug bolt but to no avail.
“Hey Lowell, give me a hand!” groaned Karl.
Dutifully, I chipped in. Karl pushed down on the star lug wrench and I pulled up on the opposite side and then . . . POP! Off came the lug nut along with the bolt. Snapped it off flush with the wheel. Not easily deterred, we tried the second lug nut and POP! Same thing. Two of six lug bolts ruined.
In horror, I looked at Karl. He looked back at me reassuringly. The drunken lady was blissfully oblivious.
Karl grinned sheepishly and chuckled, “Well, I guess God didn’t want her to drive home tonight as drunk as she is, don’t you think?”
“That makes perfect sense, Karl,” I responded, assuaging my guilt with Karl’s very reasonable rationale.
So we called the lady a cab and waited until she was on her way home and we left her disabled car alone in the parking lot. I imagine her husband was a wee bit upset the next morning when he saw the ruined wheel.
Only later did Karl and I discover a few Chrysler models had a reverse left thread on the passenger side wheels. So it was righty-loosey, lefty–tighty, not a standard righty-tighty, lefty-loosey.
A mechanic told us the wheels were likely clearly marked, indicating left-handed threading.
Well, it was dark.
Karl was a good friend and a good man. But, like me, he probably would have made a lousy AAA road assistance guy.
This story is dedicated to the memory of my friend, Karl Cornelius, 13 May 1961 – 4 January 2018.
Dash Stories 
Enjoyed your story, never knew about the Chryslers either, I can just see your faces when the lug nuts popped off.
I wasn’t even aware of Karl’s bout with the disease. We have so many memories of him and those of us dwelling during the Rolla years our early joys and sprouting of our roots.
Hope all is well with you Lowell, and thanks for sharing the story!
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He died of glioblastoma multiforme, a very aggressive brain cancer.
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