For a time I lived downtown, and the only thing that made the tiny apartment less appealing was the parking.  There wasn’t any.  On a good night I could find a spot three blocks away. Then, another…

Already, I plowed through a twenty-minute search and found nothing.  But since my car was the size of a golf cart, I looked for a sliver, any tight fit, which finally appeared.  And as I backed into the spot, I knew it was going to be close.  My back bumper was going to touch the car behind me, but it would be okay.  If you lived downtown, you bumped into parked cars all the time.  The trick was to gently tap. So that’s what I did.  I eased in and bumped the car.  I then put my car into first gear and BAM!!!  My car rocked forward.

I looked into the rear-view mirror.  Dashboard Jesus!  There were people in the car behind me.

I froze.  I didn’t know what to do.  On any other night I would flee, but this was no normal night.  I had no other place to go.  I looked into the rear-view mirror.

I hit them.
They hit me.
Détente.

I gently put my car into reverse to flush my car with the curb.  I planned on easing back slowly, but in a heightened state I popped the car again.

BAM!!!  The car rocked me forward.

I quickly I slipped my car into park and took a deep breath.

What do you do when you hit someone… twice?

I leaned into the rear-view mirror to get a better look.  It looked like a man and a woman.  Shadows were all I could see.  If they wanted to retaliate, why didn’t they jump out of their car and come after me?  No, they were waiting.  It was up to me to make the first move.

I gently opened the door and eased my body out with my hands in the air.  I slowly brought them to my chest, physically indicating that I meant no harm and, yes, I was an idiot.  I then waited for a response.

None came.

I remained not knowing what to do.  I knew I couldn’t leave without verbal confirmation that everything was fine.  So I eased towards the car until I reached the driver’s side window.  I dropped to the guy’s level and said, “Sorry I hit your car… twice.”  I then took a deep breath and asked, “Are we cool?”

The guy didn’t say anything, nor did he or the woman look at me.  Instead, they remained frozen, staring dead ahead like mannequins waiting for the next crash test.

Had I violated some roadside etiquette?  Was I making a bad situation worse?  I didn’t know.  I knew I needed a response.  So I leaned further to get eye contact. I leaned so far I ended up on the front hood of the car.  I then looked directly into his eyes and shouted, “Are you deaf or are we cool?”

The guy responded by switching on his windshield wipers that flipped and whacked my nose.

The pain was instantaneous as tears poured from my eyes.  Fury exploded as I started to pound on the windshield, screaming, “Big man with the wiper blades.  Why don’t you fight your own fight?”

The driver instead jerked his car into drive and reverse to dislodge his car.  I held for dear life on for I knew I was now riding a wild mustang that I would have to break or die trying…

Actually, the moment didn’t turn into a motorized rodeo.  Instead, the driver gave a slight nod and I stepped back and walked away. In that moment I think we frightened each other.  Who knows what would have happened if one of us had lost our cool.

That night changed me.  I started to drive and park with a more care, but you can only do so much in the middle of winter with snow and ice and cars and rush hour traffic.

It was only a matter of time…

The sun had set by the time I got off work, but there was still enough light to notice the front flat tire.

I pulled out my doughnut (spare tire), jacked up my car and switched tires.  It was late and I was tired.  Fixing the flat tire could wait.  So I started to head home.

It only took four blocks for the doughnut to turn into a pancake.

I threw the car into park.  Behind me was a tire shop.  So I put my car in drive and turned the wheels.

For those of you who never driven with a front, flat tire don’t.  You can only go about five miles-an-hour as any bump reverberates into your molars.

I tried to keep my car on the road, but motorists honked for me to get out of the way.  So I pulled over, then eased back only to have another car force me to the curb. Still, I kept moving with fraught nerves and white knuckles until I came to an intersection revealing a blinking yellow sign of a fully inflated tire.

I stepped on the gas, but immediately braked when a car from behind pulled in front of me and stopped.

Sweet Madonna, what did I do?  A glace, a word, even something as driving too slow is enough to set off another person.  The world is so tight, so tight with rage, so tightly wound.  Keep the peace pipe and hand me the loaded gun. Our forefathers blazed a trail with a bible in one hand and a Winchester in the other.  Few conflicts were ever resolved by federal mediators at an airport Holiday Inn.  So it shouldn’t be a surprise that after our forefathers blazed a path, we would drive in with our Ford Mustangs, Jeep Cherokees, Dodge Dakotas and start to cannibalize each other.  Nowadays it’s so touch and go.  Who knows what the person in the next car may do?

The driver’s door opened, then a pause…

For the first time in my life I felt genuine terror.  For the first time in my life I wished I had a loaded gun.

I glanced into my rear-view mirror, but saw no headlights.  I moved back to the car as a pair of long legs stretched out of the car and sauntered towards to me.  It was a woman and she was beautiful.  She was so beautiful all I could think was I’m about to get pummeled by a runway model.

I scanned one last time for any weapon in my car, but all I had was a plastic ice-scrapper.  It was over.  There was nothing left to do.  So I checked my hair, tested my breath and rolled down the window as the woman approached.

“Do you need help?”

“Huh?”

“Do you need any help?”

She pointed to the flat tire.

It never dawned on me.  Semi-stranded motorist.  Good Samaritan.  How far had I dropped?  How far had I removed myself where the simple act of lending a hand wasn’t an option?

The woman dropped to my level and asked once more.

“Tire flat,” I stuttered.  Then pointing to the blinking sign said, “Good!”

The woman swung around.  “Oh,” she replied, then smiled and walked back to her car.  But before she dipped into her seat, I leaned my head out the window and shouted, “Thank you!”

A crappy day ended with a beautiful moment.  And I’m not talking about the woman being beautiful.  I’m talking about a fellow traveler reaching out to help another.  Even though I was going to spend the rest of the evening sitting on a hard, plastic chair in a stuffy lobby, it was going to be a wonderful night.  A moment like this might even spread into the next day.  I could even help a stranded motorist on my way to work if my car has four fully inflated tires.