This applies in varying ways to parts of the midwest as well.

I still vividly remember the time my car broke down in a McDonalds parking lot off the main road in Chicago when I was I think 19. I’d been dropping someone off since it was only a day or so’s drive from where I lived and much cheaper than a plane ticket.
Anyways the battery cable came disconnected and it was the type you needed a wrench to reattach, I asked in the restaurant if they had one, no dice, asked in the lobby if anybody had one in their car, no dice, I remembered my parents had gotten me a small emergency tool kit years before, then remembered exactly where I’d left it at home.
I called my parents, dreading what was to come, standing there describing the problem while looking under the hood, preparing myself for the inevitable mocking that was going to come, when an elderly man in a set of work-stained overalls carrying a duffle bag full of tools Hip-checked me out of the way, leaned in, attached the cable, and walked away without saying a Goddamned Word to me or even making eye contact.

(I shouted a deeply confused “Thank you!” as he walked off, but got no acknowledgement whatsoever)