On this increasingly crazy planet we all inhabit, an act of kindness can seem as rare as an alien encounter. But such encounters can change your day in ways that you never forget.
The following encounter took place in 2010, and I still think about it when I need to restore my faith in humanity. To remember that there are good people in this galaxy. The hero of this tale didn't arrive in a flying saucer, but his spontaneous generosity felt out of this world.
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The end of a long day. We have all enjoyed a 5K walk. Wife Anna, son Michael, daughter Brodie, and me. A day of gentle sunshine has almost shone its last, and we are all happily tired. Time now for a nice cup of tea at home.
Anna is at the wheel of our station wagon and reverses out of the car park. She reverses a little too far. We know this is true because the back end of the car drops with a disturbing thump. The sort of thump that leaves you in no doubt that your cosy cup of Earl Grey will have to wait.
My significant other has driven the right rear wheel of the wagon over the edge of a ditch. The ditch is not all that deep, just deep enough to ensure that there is absolutely no hope of driving or pushing the car out of its predicament. Okay, apply handbrake and evacuate the vehicle.
Now what? We all stare at the car, and it stares back at us with stubborn solidity. Our roadside assistance provider won’t be able to help us with this one. We will need a tow truck.
We are in no danger. None of us is injured or in need of urgent help. But the prospect of what lies ahead is not attractive. Since neither Anna nor I brought our mobile phones (2010, ah, simpler times) on this trip, someone will have to walk more Ks into the nearest town to find a public telephone.
And since neither of us has brought any money, that someone will also need to find another someone in town willing to part with a little change or lend their phone so the call to the tow truck company can be made. Will a tow truck even come if we have no credit card details to proffer?
The only sure thing is that this process will take hours, or, measured from the viewpoint of tired children, an eternity. Marital discord is also a distinct possibility.
Then something happens. A 4-wheel drive rolls into the car park. Inside is a man and four children. The man gets out of his car. Is he here to help? No, he doesn’t even acknowledge us, just opens the hatch of his car and…wait…those are chains in his hands.
“Saw you from the road,” this burly bloke says with a smile as he lies down next to our car. In two minutes, he has the station wagon chained to his tow bar. Then he says, “Okey-dokey”, slides into his vehicle and eases down the accelerator.
A huge cheer as the beleaguered wheel of our wagon climbs over the lip of the ditch. Stress turns to joy. Anna and I add a dozen more “thank yous” to the deluge we’ve already delivered to our saviour.
“Your Dad’s wonderful,” I tell the kids in the 4-wheel drive. One of them shrugs, “He always does stuff like this.”
Their Dad’s name is Frank, and we learn a little about him. He’s an ex-policeman, currently a DJ at blue light discos, and he lives not far from us. A handshake, “thanks again”, and he and his tribe are gone, and then we are too.
“I hope that’s your last ditch effort,” I joke to Anna. Both of us relieved and grateful to arrive home. The kettle is soon boiling.
As I think about Frank’s actions, I realise how quickly he decided to help. There was an embankment between the road and our car, which meant our dilemma would have been visible to Frank for a matter of seconds. He had to register the wheel in the ditch, decide to assist, and then slow down and veer off the road, all in a few heartbeats.
But Frank was used to listening to his heart, and because of that, he made our hearts so much lighter on the day we met him.
A close encounter of the kind kind. One I'll never forget.
Love on ya, Anthony
Talking about cars. I had a, ah, rather different “close encounter” driving in Greece. You can read about that adventure here: My Life In Ruins
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