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My first car was a 1978 Chrysler LeBaron. It was gold, with a vinyl top, and the eight track deck worked. The carburetor was another story. Later I would grow adept at fixing the choke with a hair brush I kept in the car just for that purpose.
But often it dumped me on the side of the road, where I would freak out and cry. It was often on the way to work. Inevitably, a man driving a pickup truck stopped to help me.
Today I dragged myself out to the grocery store, despite the 45 degree weather and frigid drizzling rain. Almost at the store, on the access road of the freeway, I saw someone pull their car to the side and turn on their flashers. He got out of the car, and I saw him desperately wave at passing cars. He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt, and the sort of black loafers no guy my age wears unless he is on the way to a job interview.
The gas gauge on my first car was broken and would swing wildly. I never ran out of gas because I was paranoid, and gas was a dollar a gallon at the time. So I have a lot of sympathy for a person who is unemployed, driving a car with a finicky gauge, on the way to a job interview.
I drove him to the nearest station. It would have been a substantially unpleasant walk in the rain, across six lanes of highway and a mile away. Thankfully the station had gas cans. I drove him back to his car. We talked about growing up in Austin and how weird it was to remember when these stores were empty fields of cedar and live oak behind barbed wire. He thanked me so many times, and I told him about my constant trouble with the Chrysler.
This only took fifteen minutes of my day. I hope he gets the job.
Car problems could reduce me to hysterical panic at various times in my life. The kindness of strangers often saved me. I feel so glad I was able to help someone in that same way.
But often it dumped me on the side of the road, where I would freak out and cry. It was often on the way to work. Inevitably, a man driving a pickup truck stopped to help me.
Today I dragged myself out to the grocery store, despite the 45 degree weather and frigid drizzling rain. Almost at the store, on the access road of the freeway, I saw someone pull their car to the side and turn on their flashers. He got out of the car, and I saw him desperately wave at passing cars. He was wearing slacks and a dress shirt, and the sort of black loafers no guy my age wears unless he is on the way to a job interview.
The gas gauge on my first car was broken and would swing wildly. I never ran out of gas because I was paranoid, and gas was a dollar a gallon at the time. So I have a lot of sympathy for a person who is unemployed, driving a car with a finicky gauge, on the way to a job interview.
I drove him to the nearest station. It would have been a substantially unpleasant walk in the rain, across six lanes of highway and a mile away. Thankfully the station had gas cans. I drove him back to his car. We talked about growing up in Austin and how weird it was to remember when these stores were empty fields of cedar and live oak behind barbed wire. He thanked me so many times, and I told him about my constant trouble with the Chrysler.
This only took fifteen minutes of my day. I hope he gets the job.
Car problems could reduce me to hysterical panic at various times in my life. The kindness of strangers often saved me. I feel so glad I was able to help someone in that same way.