The night mechanical engineering failed its graduates

Last year I was visiting the sis on my vacation and the trip was disastrous. We fought like cats, there was a triangular cold war brewing for various reasons and all we did was spew bile at each other. I guess all of us were stressed out and my family always takes out unpleasantness on the people we love and we excel at it and that is exactly what we all did at my sister's. The day before I and Mum were supposed to fly back (early morning flight and all that) the sister and BIL organised a night out, to let our hair down and put the ill-will behind us. Two of BIL's colleagues (very young compared to the BIL who was actually their boss) also came along. Both were engineers, one an electrical engineering grad and the other a mechanical engineering grad. We set out and the first pub we hit (Wunderbarr - for those who know the city I am speaking of) was nice and all that but also full of very young people and even I felt old. One of the fellows who had bragged until I could gag about being a regular at the place did not seem to be so and then the same guy told us about this farmhouse that had happening and rocking parties and we decided to head out for some fun.

The ride took ages and we headed out of the city, happy that fun times would soon descend and we would rock and drink and be happy. We were driving through the night in darkness, without proper lights or roads and there were sugarcane fields all around and no sign of habitation when suddenly there was a huge pop and we realised that one of the damned tyres had sprung a puncture. The engineers in our car were cocky and cool and pooh-poohed the fact that no help was around. Afterall, how difficult was it to change a tyre? We jumped out of the car, and frantically looked for a torch and discovered a feeble one in the glove compartment that could conk out any moment. The sis and I stood away secure in the hope that the men would take care of the puncture. For 30 minutes complete confusion reigned. They were all looking for the car manual that could not be found. Finally the sis located it stuffed in the boot somewhere in a plastic cover and relief swept over the guys. Then the manual was flipped over to find out the instructions to change tyres and they could not locate it. The BIL stated very confidently that those instructions could be found on page 81. Well, there was no page 81! Somehow with the aid of the flickering light of cellphone dials the instructions were discovered. Then the men all had different opinions on how a tyre should be changed, despite the clear instructions and cursed and yelled that the jack was not fitting underneath the car and then I realised that something was amiss and that the fellows were not awfully capable of changing tyres. Sis and I stepped into the fray and assisted the fellows in setting the jack up (read: lifting the car while the guys got the jack in place). After that was done, the guys fumbled and cursed and it took them another 30 minutes to get the deflated tyre out. Then the spare tyre was taken out and the fellows twisted it this way and that but it just would not go in. Finally, I offered to help and the fellows brushed me off. After another 15 minutes of grunting and cursing, I couldn't take it any longer and stepped in. By that time the fellows were too exhausted to care. In 5 minutes I had the tyre in place and one of the fellows fastened the nuts and bolts or whatever you call the screws. All this while what do you think the BIL was doing? Helping out? Oh no. He was standing at a distance barking out crisp, incorrect, unwanted and annoying instructions from the manual. It had taken us over 1 and 1/2 hours to change a tyre. This when we had a mechanical engineering grad who supposedly was a car freak. Suzy if you read this, remember how we laughed afterwards at "engineering graduates"?