Father Harris was motoring along a country lane in his parish on a spring afternoon when all of a sudden he got a flat tire. Exasperated, the priest stopped his car, got out, and assessed the damage. Luckily a four-wheel- drive jeep rounded the bend and pulled to a stop behind the crippled vehicle.

The door to the jeep opened and out stepped a powerful hunk of a man. "Good afternoon, Father," greeted the stranger. "Can I give you a hand?"

"Heaven be praised," rejoiced the priest. "As you can see, my son, I have a flat tire, and I must admit I've never changed one before."

"Don't worry about it, Father. I'll take care of it." And without skipping a beat, the bruiser picked up the front of the car with one hand and removed the lug nuts from the base of the flat tire with the other. "Why don't you get the spare from the trunk?"

"Why, ahh, yes, of course, my son," stuttered the amazed Father Harris. The priest rolled the spare around to the strong- man who casually lifted it up with his free hand, maneuvered it into place, and proceeded to tighten the lug nuts.

"Do you need the wrench?" the Father queried.

"That's OK," the fellow told him. "These nuts are as tight as a nun's snatch."

"Hmmmm..." mused Father Harris. "I'd better get the wrench."