Denise
Me: "Do you need some help?"
Her: "I'm out of gas, but I've got someone on the way to help."
Me:"I've got a gallon of gas in my car for you if you want it."
Her: "Oh! Ok."
As it turns out, she was able to call the person who was coming to help her before they were too far on their way.
Police
(this is an entirely separate occasion; my fiancée thought it was confusing, so added this to clarify)
I stopped to help a woman who said she didn't need help, but thanked me for offering.
The really exciting part of this one was that as I was about to continue on my way, a police car pulled up behind me. Before I had a chance to say anything, he asked me:
"What's wrong with your car?"
"Nothing. I just stopped to help the woman back there," I pointed to her van. "But she said she didn't need any help, so I'm headed to school."
"I checked on her; she's ok. Thank you for stopping though."
"No problem."
Then I went to school.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Muddy Pants and Rock and Roll
On the way to school this morning I was running later than usual, but not so terribly late that I couldn't stop for someone.
As it turns, out that's exactly what God had in mind for me to do.
The man came over from his flat tire to talk to me.
"Thank you for stopping," the he said.
"Do you need some help?"
"I don't have the wrench to change my tire."
"I'll go get mine." I went and got the wrench and helped him change the tire, accidentally kneeling in some mud in the process.
The real irony here comes later, during Philosophy class.
One hypothetical situation came up during class:
Suppose you're walking along the road next to a body of water in which you see a child drowning. Provided that you can swim and that helping the child won't make anything worse happen, we concluded as a class that you are morally obligated to help -- even if it means getting your pant's muddy!
We actually talked about muddy pants!
I couldn't help but go to my professor after the class and point to the mud on my pants.
"It's funny that we would talk about muddy pants," I said. "Because I have mud on my jeans from stopping to help a guy change a flat tire on my way to class this morning."
My professor smiled. "Rock and roll!"
PS: Tony
Tonight, Tony needed help, but not the kind I could give him. His car overheated and he was hoping it would cool and run again, but it didn't seem to be working, so he was figuring he would need to get it towed. But he has AAA, so it wouldn't have done any good for me to stay there. However, he did say that my stopping to help him did convince him that maybe Ohioans are as nice the folks in Kentucky where he's from.
PPS: A Prayer
Thank you, Lord, for the opportunities you gave me today. Thank you for giving me a willingness to take advantage of them. I know I wasn't inclined to help Tony, but you brought me to him anyway. If I'm completely honest, I don't think I was particularly eager about stopping for the man with the flat either. But the wonderful thing about your grace is that "all that it asks it provides" (to borrow from Caedmon's Call). Pour out your grace on me by continuing to provide me with both opportunities and a willing spirit; they are both undeserved gifts.
As it turns, out that's exactly what God had in mind for me to do.
The man came over from his flat tire to talk to me.
"Thank you for stopping," the he said.
"Do you need some help?"
"I don't have the wrench to change my tire."
"I'll go get mine." I went and got the wrench and helped him change the tire, accidentally kneeling in some mud in the process.
The real irony here comes later, during Philosophy class.
One hypothetical situation came up during class:
Suppose you're walking along the road next to a body of water in which you see a child drowning. Provided that you can swim and that helping the child won't make anything worse happen, we concluded as a class that you are morally obligated to help -- even if it means getting your pant's muddy!
We actually talked about muddy pants!
I couldn't help but go to my professor after the class and point to the mud on my pants.
"It's funny that we would talk about muddy pants," I said. "Because I have mud on my jeans from stopping to help a guy change a flat tire on my way to class this morning."
My professor smiled. "Rock and roll!"
PS: Tony
Tonight, Tony needed help, but not the kind I could give him. His car overheated and he was hoping it would cool and run again, but it didn't seem to be working, so he was figuring he would need to get it towed. But he has AAA, so it wouldn't have done any good for me to stay there. However, he did say that my stopping to help him did convince him that maybe Ohioans are as nice the folks in Kentucky where he's from.
PPS: A Prayer
Thank you, Lord, for the opportunities you gave me today. Thank you for giving me a willingness to take advantage of them. I know I wasn't inclined to help Tony, but you brought me to him anyway. If I'm completely honest, I don't think I was particularly eager about stopping for the man with the flat either. But the wonderful thing about your grace is that "all that it asks it provides" (to borrow from Caedmon's Call). Pour out your grace on me by continuing to provide me with both opportunities and a willing spirit; they are both undeserved gifts.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Panne D'Essense
Essense!
Backstory:
Panne D'Essence
Backstory:
Near the beginning of when I started stopping for people, one of the people was out of gas, but they already had a gallon. I became nervous that I would stop for someone and wouldn't be able to because they would need gas, and I wouldn't have any. So I bought a gallon gas can, and filled it up.
Now the question was, how can I keep it from smelling up my car?
I tried tying it to the floor of my trunk. No dice.
I tied it to the ceiling of my trunk with twine. The metal wore through the twine and the can tipped over and smelled up the car.
Then I took a break (for a month or two).
Then I tried again. I cut out a strap of leather (it's nice to have some laying around). I put a holes in each end of the strap, looped it around the metal on the roof of my trunk and put a carabiner through the holes and hung the can from the carabiner. One of the holes tore through and my car smelled like gas again (but not nearly as bad as the first time).
Finally I figured it out. Carabiner in contact with the metal of the ceiling, leather strap holding the handle of the gas can such that it is sitting on the floor, but cannot tip over. (This was just a week or two ago)
Panne D'Essence
Back to the present (or the recent past, rather):
Wednesday morning.
"Do you need some help?"
The woman sitting in the driver's seat is looking at me with very sad eyes. There are two or three young kids in the car with her. The younger one is sleeping in a car-seat in the back. "Yes," she says. "I'm out of gas."
I start smiling at her. "I have a gallon of gas for you."
"Thank you so much," she says as I'm already on my way back to my car.
I get the gas, put it in her car (making my hands smell like gas in the process; it didn't occur to me that maybe I might also want to keep a rag with gas can until this point). I stopped back at the passenger window to let her know she was all set.
"Thank you so much," she said again with those sad eyes.
"No problem," I said smiling back at her.
I think she needed more than a gallon of gas. I hope that when she got where she was going, someone gave her a long hug. But hopefully a smile from a stranger was enough at that moment.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Paul and Francis
Paul and Francis are from Ghana. Paul has been in the states since 1996, but he spent the first years of that time in NY. He came to Columbus because housing here is so much cheeper. If I understood him correctly, he works two jobs to pay the bills.
Francis is just a year out of Ghana, but his english is about as good as Paul's. I was impressed. I think I'd still be nearly incomprehensible after only one year in a new country. Francis is between jobs at present.
In any case, Paul and Francis were just headed home when smoke started seeping from under the hood of their minivan. When I arrived, it appeared that neither of them had got out of the car to see what the problem was yet. When they told me that there was smoke, I decided that it wasn't even worth it for me to look under the hood; I offered them a ride.
On the way to their house, they told me about themselves. They were very nice. I'd stop for them again any day.
Pray they can fix their van and that Francis can find a job.
Francis is just a year out of Ghana, but his english is about as good as Paul's. I was impressed. I think I'd still be nearly incomprehensible after only one year in a new country. Francis is between jobs at present.
In any case, Paul and Francis were just headed home when smoke started seeping from under the hood of their minivan. When I arrived, it appeared that neither of them had got out of the car to see what the problem was yet. When they told me that there was smoke, I decided that it wasn't even worth it for me to look under the hood; I offered them a ride.
On the way to their house, they told me about themselves. They were very nice. I'd stop for them again any day.
Pray they can fix their van and that Francis can find a job.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Stephanie and Juan
On the way home last thursday...
Long story:
They were stuck on the side of the freeway on about a seven-foot berm. Thankfully, this berm was next to a bulging lane that grew into two lanes (an exit lane) not far ahead. Since there was a guard rail on the edge of the berm (such that I couldn't get next to them for a jump), I resigned to calling a tow truck for them.
I whipped out my AAA card and spent the next ten minutes on hold.
When at last I got through, they informed me that they should be there in no more than 45 min.
Good.
But I wasn't about to do nothing for 45 min. So I hopped back in my car and went up the exit ramp to where it joined a one-way street. I turned the car around and drove very slowly back down the berm of the exit ramp with my hazard lights on until I was close enough to the other car to give it a jump. I used my recently-acquired knowledge to safely hook up the batteries...
No dice.
So I had to drive backward all the way back up the exit ramp on a berm that was barely wide enough for the car, while really trying not to get hit by cars and not hit the guard rail. All in all it wasn't as difficult as in sounds, considering that I was really under no time constraint. It was a very unique experience.
I got the car turned around, parked, and jogged back to the Stephanie and Juan.
Well ahead of schedule, the AAA tow truck now arrived. He says he can only take two people.
Perfect, I think, he can take Stephanie and Juan. Except that I'm the one with AAA membership.
But so long as they don't need to pay with check or credit, I am off the hook because the tow truck driver has already seen my membership card. Thankfully, they had cash.
I bid my temporary companions farewell and we parted ways.
Long story short:
I got compete strangers towed with my AAA card.
Long story:
They were stuck on the side of the freeway on about a seven-foot berm. Thankfully, this berm was next to a bulging lane that grew into two lanes (an exit lane) not far ahead. Since there was a guard rail on the edge of the berm (such that I couldn't get next to them for a jump), I resigned to calling a tow truck for them.
I whipped out my AAA card and spent the next ten minutes on hold.
When at last I got through, they informed me that they should be there in no more than 45 min.
Good.
But I wasn't about to do nothing for 45 min. So I hopped back in my car and went up the exit ramp to where it joined a one-way street. I turned the car around and drove very slowly back down the berm of the exit ramp with my hazard lights on until I was close enough to the other car to give it a jump. I used my recently-acquired knowledge to safely hook up the batteries...
No dice.
So I had to drive backward all the way back up the exit ramp on a berm that was barely wide enough for the car, while really trying not to get hit by cars and not hit the guard rail. All in all it wasn't as difficult as in sounds, considering that I was really under no time constraint. It was a very unique experience.
I got the car turned around, parked, and jogged back to the Stephanie and Juan.
Well ahead of schedule, the AAA tow truck now arrived. He says he can only take two people.
Perfect, I think, he can take Stephanie and Juan. Except that I'm the one with AAA membership.
But so long as they don't need to pay with check or credit, I am off the hook because the tow truck driver has already seen my membership card. Thankfully, they had cash.
I bid my temporary companions farewell and we parted ways.
Long story short:
I got compete strangers towed with my AAA card.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The guy in the mini van
Sunday night:
Him: I'm not sure what's wrong, I think it might be my alternator. My lights started flickering and then the engine died. It could be the battery.
Me: Do you want to jump it?
Him: I'm not sure it will do any good, but we can give it a try.
I backed up my car beside his, break out the jumper cables from my emergency kit from Driver's Edge (so glad to have that thing), and hand them to him. I popped the hood and he got to work while I mostly just stood there because I didn't know to do, and he seemed to have it under control. He hooked the batteries up and gave it a go and it started fine. He unhooked the cables from his mini van which kept running, thankfully. He thanked me, and we got back on the road.
I got home and asked my dad what order you hook things up so I'll know for next time!
Him: I'm not sure what's wrong, I think it might be my alternator. My lights started flickering and then the engine died. It could be the battery.
Me: Do you want to jump it?
Him: I'm not sure it will do any good, but we can give it a try.
I backed up my car beside his, break out the jumper cables from my emergency kit from Driver's Edge (so glad to have that thing), and hand them to him. I popped the hood and he got to work while I mostly just stood there because I didn't know to do, and he seemed to have it under control. He hooked the batteries up and gave it a go and it started fine. He unhooked the cables from his mini van which kept running, thankfully. He thanked me, and we got back on the road.
I got home and asked my dad what order you hook things up so I'll know for next time!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Riding High
So, a few months ago, I stopped on my way home late at night.
The woman had a flat tire.
As is turns out, she drives for a living and was her sixth flat tire of the year, and had not had to change any of the other five.
I'd only ever changed one flat tire in my life up to this point, so I made a some mistakes that made it take longer than it otherwise would have.
After 15-20 minutes, I managed to send her on her way.
I started driving home, riding high, feeling good about myself because of what I did.
Here's where the real learning started.
I saw what appeared to be another car in distress.
Viscerally, I rejected the inclination to go over there. I didn't want to stop again. Whoever it was, I didn't want to have to help them.
After a few seconds I realized that I didn't have to after all, because what had appeared to be someone turning on their hazard lights way up the road was actually someone tapping on their brakes.
I was free to go home unbothered, and did, but I was no longer riding high. I knew that I wasn't the saint I wanted to think I was. I knew that mostly what I wanted out of stopping was to have an experience to make me feel like I was a good person. I wanted to get home and have people pat me on the back.
I'm not a saint. I'm not really even a Good Samaritan. For now I'm just OK.
The woman had a flat tire.
As is turns out, she drives for a living and was her sixth flat tire of the year, and had not had to change any of the other five.
I'd only ever changed one flat tire in my life up to this point, so I made a some mistakes that made it take longer than it otherwise would have.
After 15-20 minutes, I managed to send her on her way.
I started driving home, riding high, feeling good about myself because of what I did.
Here's where the real learning started.
I saw what appeared to be another car in distress.
Viscerally, I rejected the inclination to go over there. I didn't want to stop again. Whoever it was, I didn't want to have to help them.
After a few seconds I realized that I didn't have to after all, because what had appeared to be someone turning on their hazard lights way up the road was actually someone tapping on their brakes.
I was free to go home unbothered, and did, but I was no longer riding high. I knew that I wasn't the saint I wanted to think I was. I knew that mostly what I wanted out of stopping was to have an experience to make me feel like I was a good person. I wanted to get home and have people pat me on the back.
I'm not a saint. I'm not really even a Good Samaritan. For now I'm just OK.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Joe
Joe is from Ghana.
He left Ghana about 10 years ago and moved to Italy. Then to the US. Then back to Italy. Then he got a visa and moved back to the US and got married.
Now Joe works at Walmart. He was driving home from work on Wednesday morning (around 8 am) and he got a flat tire.
Providentially, he got his flat tire close enough to my exit that I was already in the rightmost lane, so I could actually get to him without merging across four lanes of rush-hour traffic.
Joe had no spare, so I just drove him home, which made me half an hour late for a class in which I was supposed to turn in homework at the beginning of class. I received grace from the teacher on that point.
A couple of hours later I received a call on my cell.
It was Joe. He'd gone out, bought a tire, changed it, and drove his car home (all after coming home from work at 8 in the morning! I don't know how long he'd been up, but he's a trooper). He called to let me know that his problem was now resolved.
You know, I think Joe is more thoughtful than I am.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
"I have a bucket stuck under my car."
Her: "I have a bucket stuck under my car."
Standing outside the driver's door, I look down.
There's a shattered, orange plastic salt bucket sticking out from under the minivan.
I kick it out of the way, behind her car.
Me: "Is that it? Do you need anything else?"
Her: "That's it. Thank you."
I start jogging back to my car.
Me: "'I have a bucket stuck under my car.' I'll never hear that line again."
FAQ:
Q: Why didn't she just pull the bucket out herself?
A: She said the bucket was originally stuck under the front of the car. She pulled forward and back a few times and managed to almost dislodge it, though she didn't know it.
Q: Then what was she planning on doing in the meantime?
A: She'd called her husband for help.
Standing outside the driver's door, I look down.
There's a shattered, orange plastic salt bucket sticking out from under the minivan.
I kick it out of the way, behind her car.
Me: "Is that it? Do you need anything else?"
Her: "That's it. Thank you."
I start jogging back to my car.
Me: "'I have a bucket stuck under my car.' I'll never hear that line again."
FAQ:
Q: Why didn't she just pull the bucket out herself?
A: She said the bucket was originally stuck under the front of the car. She pulled forward and back a few times and managed to almost dislodge it, though she didn't know it.
Q: Then what was she planning on doing in the meantime?
A: She'd called her husband for help.
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