The Stranded Motorist
It was snowing and it was difficult to see
while driving. Nonetheless I had to do my errands; to dump the cardboard piled
in the back of my truck. I went to the recycling bins behind the police station
and dumped the cardboard I collected from the hotel where I work. I continued
my errands at K-Mart. The road was treacherous, slippery at stop signs and
traffic signals. It was cold, around zero, but felt much colder with the wind.
There were a lot of customers at K-Mart.
There is always a spike in shopping activity during foul winter weather. I
located the whole wheat Ritz Crackers and the isopropyl alcohol for the car and
the truck then stopped at the pharmacy for one of my prescriptions. It was too
warm in the store and I was dressed in layers since I spend a lot of time
outdoors. I hurried to get my business done.
It was snowing intensely now, obliterating
footprints made a short while ago. I started the truck and set about clearing
and scraping the windshield, thinking this
is another reason I hate winter. A tune by Borodin bounced around in my
head and I marveled that Aleksander Borodin was really a chemist before he
became a composer.
I was jolted from my
reverie by a man asking me if I have jumper cables.
“I don’t know- maybe the
battery is no good. My car is over there, see?”
“I’ll gladly help you once
I get my windshield clear.”
The man opened the hood of
the Chevrolet.
“I can’t even find the
battery,” he said.
I had accessed the battery in such a Chevy
last summer for a damsel in distress so I knew where it was. Why GM hides the
battery underneath the windshield washer reservoir and surrounded by hoses and
unknown devices beats the heck out of me. It was difficult to attach the jumper cables. My
arthritic hands ached in stinging fashion from the cold and the wind.
We tried several times to
get it going. I peered into the space with my flashlight. I couldn’t really
tell if the cables were connected solidly. It was a side-terminal battery with
tiny posts. The dopes who engineered this
mess should have to do this in cold weather.
I had him try his
headlights and they came on brightly.
“I don’t know. The battery
isn’t the trouble.” I had accepted that the car wasn’t going to start.
“Yeah, I had trouble a couple of weeks ago.
Called Greg’s Towing and he looked around under the hood then he turned the key
and it started. I had the car in Greg’s shop and he couldn’t find anything
wrong. I guess I’ll call a cab from a pay phone.”
“I can give you a ride. Do you want to call
a wrecker from my cell phone?”
“Naw, that’s okay. I’ll call later from home.”
“I live outside of Hurley so it’s kind of
far and the weather is so bad.”
“Hop up into my truck. It’s nice and warm
inside.” I noticed that he wasn’t wearing gloves and he was rubbing his hands
together. He was about sixty years old, too old to be out in the cold for so
long.
“Thanks for going out of your way for me.
You got to drive through Hurley and my house is on the Carey stretch.”
“Not a problem.” The problem was my stinging
hands as I gripped the wheel.
“I’m George.”
“I’m John. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
He held out a ten-dollar bill.
"Naw, I can't take your money. Tell you what, just pass it on. help someone when they're in a bind."
John held out his hand. "Merry Christmas, George."
"Likewise."
