Roadside Assistance

The slightly beat up Datsun passed me, slowed, then reversed and backed all the way up. A youngish black man in a baseball cap gave me a grin and called through the passenger window, Need some help, m'am?

He was tall and solidly built, somewhere between 25 and 30-ish, I guessed, wearing running shorts and sweats, white socks and new white Nikes. He walked around my car thoughtfully, as if weighing all the options, then suggested he try and give me a gentle nudge. Don't think it'll work, he admitted, but it's a start. He pulled the Datsun up behind me until his left front bumper made contact with my right rear one - between the two vehicles there was a ditch, wide and gaping, filled with a soft, thick, and slippery mix of clay and mud. I accelerated cautiously but nothing happend. He called to me to stop and made another 360 degree inspection of the car. The left front wheel hung just above the shoulder while the right rear dangled over the ditch, not a pretty sight nor a promising one. Frowning, the stranger shed his running jacket and jumped all his weight into the ditch, his white Nikes instantly sinking in to the mud and clay up to his shoelaces. I'll try and push, he told me with a brief glance at what I knew had been very costly shoes, You give her a very little gas. This failed as well, resulting in a stench of burning rubber and grinding sounds from beneath the car. He climbed up from the ditch, hands on his hips, mud spattered and in ruined shoes, but still grinning. Got a jack? This I indeed did have and after several more minutes of patient working on his hands and knees in the ditch - telling me he had been training for a marathon and gotten first tired, then disgusted with his lack of stamina and decided to call it a day - the jack was in place and the front tire making contact with the ground. Go easy, he told me, just a little pressure on the pedal is all you ought to need. Miraculously, the car moved forward and in a second or two, was on firm ground. The young man folded the jack and replaced it, then wiping mud from his hands, gave me a brilliant smile. You're on your way again, he said. He wouldn't give me his name although I nearly begged, It's not a good deed if there's a reward my daddy used to say. Besides, look at how easy it was!

I looked at his once white Nikes, and the patches of mud on his shirt and knees, one calf bleeding slightly and bruised knuckles. I reached out my hand and he shook it firmly then wished me well and drove off. It's a good start to a new year! he called as he drove past and waved.

There aren't a lot of good samaritans left in the world and it was my good fortune to meet one when I needed it the most. I like to think it's a good sign of things to come.