Two Kindly Strangers

This happened yesterday. 

Our housemate, Jerry, finally got a call back from his PCP doctor about the MRI he got last Monday, which showed that he had a torn rotator-cuff and a torn tendon, telling him to get an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon.  As our household's Speaker To Bureaucrats, I did the phonecalling to the doctor and the insurance company and the specialist, and got him an appointment with the surgeon in early January, as well as a promise of effective pain-killers to last him that long.  Institutionalized healthcare in this state moves with the speed of glaciers, but its possible to apply some heat to it.  So anyway, Jerry asked that we have Chinese food for dinner as compensation for his having to wait more long days in considerable pain.  Seeing that was a fair enough request, I set off for the only Chinese restaurant in town, a Panda franchise, which is a good five miles away.  I took my car, since there's no way I can drive Rasty's truck. 

On the way to the restaurant I noticed that the car was riding a little rough on the left side.  On the way back I noticed that it was riding a lot rougher, and noisier, and guessed that one of the tires was going flat.  As I was pulling away from the commercial zone and out into the farms, the tire got a lot rougher, and noisier, so I pulled off onto the wide shoulder beside a cornfield.  As I did, another car pulled up and parked behind me, and the driver got out and asked if I needed some help.  Yes, I surely did.  When I climbed out (favoring my bad right ankle and walking with my steel cane) I saw that the left rear tire wasn't just flat but shredded.  It must have been an impressive sight to someone driving behind me. 

So I pulled the trunk-release lever and went to open the trunk, but the trunk-door was so stiff that I couldn't get it open by myself.  The kindly stranger helped me heave it open, then reached down and pulled out the spare tire himself.  He also looked over the somewhat inadequate jack I had in the spare-tire-well, went back to his car, and pulled out a sturdy blue jack of his own.  He took one look at the spare tire and woefully announced that there was no air in it.  I mentioned that I had an AAA membership, and maybe they could send a truck that had its own air-pump.  Kindly mister blue-jack offered to take the tire up to one of the gas-stations farther back up the road and get it filled.  I thanked him heartily, and he took off -- leaving his blue jack by my car as a tacit surety that he really would return.  In about a quarter-hour he was back, with the tire filled and driveable.  He then pulled a professional-looking toolkit out of his car, positioned the jack, and started changing the wheel.  He was obliged to put on my hand-brake to keep the car from moving, even though I had it in park.  We also learned, the hard way, that the nuts on the wheel were painfully tight.  I honestly couldn't help him much, so I stood by the edge of the tarmac and steered oncoming traffic to swerve wide away from us -- rather necessary, since the sun was on the horizon and the lighting wasn't any too good.  Altogether, it took maybe half an hour after he returned to get that tire changed.  He didn't feel too confident in that tire, so he made sure to ask that I was going straight home and my house wasn't too far away.  I thanked him, promised that I owed him one, and wished I had something to give him for his trouble -- and right then I remembered that, along with the tires, the car had come with a CD in the player.  It was the soundtrack from "My Best Friend's Wedding", which I surely had no use for, so I hauled it out and gave it to him, along with a somewhat premature Merry Christmas.  He went back to his car and watched while I started up my engine before he drove off.

Unfortunately, I discovered another problem with that car;  I couldn't get the hand-brake to release.  I pushed the release-button down as hard as I could, even hammered it with my cane-handle, and simply couldn't get it to move.  Damn.

Well, I couldn't think of anything to do but get out of the car and wave for help.  It was getting into twilight now and traffic was thinning out, but eventually another car slowed and pulled over and parked on the shoulder.  Out of it got a plumply pretty young woman, with long turquoise-enameled fingernails, who asked if I needed help.  I explained that I surely did, and could she help me get that damned brake-handle to release.  I wasn't sure if she could do any better than I had, with those long nails, but she offered to take a crack at it.  She tried from the passenger's side, had no luck, and then got into the driver's seat and wrestled it with both hands -- and damned if she didn't manage to get it loose.  I thanked her much and promised I owed her one, which she waved off with a smile as she started back to her car, and wished her Merry Christmas since I didn't have anything else. 

So I got back to the house only an hour or so late, with the somewhat-cooled Chinese food (easily reheated in the microwave) and an interesting tale to tell. 

I've noticed this kind of common civility to strangers, here in Arizona, not just out in the countryside and not just during the Christmas-etc. season.  Still, this sort of kindness -- involving so much effort at a moment's notice -- is remarkable, and worth honoring.  So again, Mr. Blue-Jack and Ms. Turquoise-Nails, I owe you one and I wish you all the blessings of the season.  If I never run across you again, I'll just pay it forward to any of my other neighbors whom I might find in trouble -- and become a kindly stranger myself.   Bless you both.

--Leslie <;)))><