Helped an old codger (not Tanner) pry his 90s Buick out of a parking lot snow bank. He was spinning his wheels so excessively that the left front tire had dug down 3 inches into the hard packed stuff on the pavement. There was the distinct aroma of burnt rubber in the air and his tire looked like it was in a pothole. The other side of the vehicle was solidly wedged in. He had a little red kid shovel and abundant confusion brought to bear on his plight.
Was this because of the massive amount of snow we've had? Well, maybe, if you count running into a snow pile that had already been neatly removed. Judging by liver spots, lack of a wisp of hair, and general fatigue, I place him conservatively at 85.
I did all I could with that little red shovel trying to free his right wheel from his frozen tomb, but he had put his car a good three feet into the bank and was effectively sitting his old guy car on a dense snow block. Finally, I'm like "eff this, I'll push you out with my car." A few minutes later he was free to menace society with his cataract-obscured driving prowess.
I got a limp wave and the warm satisfaction that I probably enabled a future accident.