If you ever listened in Sunday School, you know about the Good Samaritan. Some guy traveling on the road to Jericho fell among thieves who beat the snot out of him and took everything he had. A priest and a Levite passed by and didn't lift a finger to help the guy. They just walked on the other side of the road! It was a Samaritan, a man from a group of people that every Jew despised, who ended up helping the guy and saving his life. It's a real good lesson summed up with the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
Well, I sort of had my own Good Samaritan moment recently. Details changed in my tale, of course. There was no priest or Levite. Certainly, somebody from Ohio could easily be despised by certain people in Michigan. (Usually, I say "that state up north" instead of stating the name, but I really have to be gracious in this telling.) If you wear an Ohio State T-shirt, you could be beaten up by the most devout Michigan fans. Possibly. More likely not. But, for certain, you'll get comments which may or may not be nasty.
Anyway, there I was driving in Michigan.
I wanted to get across the border as fast as possible. It wasn't because of anything against certain people attending university in Ann Arbor, Michigan. No, gas was thirty cents a gallon cheaper in Ohio. But, I didn't make it. I really didn't make it. I was zipping along at a very legal 70 miles per hour when I decided that I had to exit for gas in Ypsilanti, Michigan. My tank was near empty and I couldn't take the chance. So, I took the exit, and slowed down, but it was too fast to miss a giant pothole on the road. My brother-in-law always says that the roads in Ohio are better than the ones in Michigan.
I'm now a believer.
I hit the pothole so hard and fast that I knew I damaged the tire. I'm not very mechanical at all, but I do carry an emergency kit in my car. I pulled out the canister of "fix a flat" to see if that would work. Not a chance. The sealant just poured out of the gash in the tire. I was going to have to change the tire, and I honestly can't remember the last time I ever did that.
At that moment, I really wished I was in Africa. I had several flat tires when I drove across Zambia. And, every time, no matter how far into the bush I drove, someone always showed up who was more than willing to change my tire for me. How people who didn't own cars knew how to do that remains a mystery to me. But, they knew that they would earn a few bucks from the stranded foreigner, and I considered it one of life's greatest blessings while I was in Africa. Everyone won.
But, alas, I was in Ypsilanti.
I know that the spare tire for my car is located underneath the trunk. You get access to it by unscrewing a bolt in the trunk. That action lowers a chain that holds the tire securely outside and underneath the car. I have a special kind of lug wrench that is specifically made for my car, just to serve that purpose. I didn't reach for it. Instead, I grabbed a four-way lug wrench, shaped like an "X", to attempt the process. It didn't work. There wasn't enough room in my very tiny Fiat 500 trunk for the "X" to turn that bolt. I only struggled a few minutes though. I think Adam, my Good Samaritan, was in the very first car to pass by.
He really shouldn't have stopped. He was heading to see his girlfriend and this would make him late. But, Adam was not one to pass by someone in need, even if the car has an Ohio tag. His father was one of the local "go to" men in the area for towing vehicles to maintenance shops. So, quite naturally, Adam had almost everything in his trunk that was needed to be a Good Samaritan in this situation.
We successfully lowered the spare tire from its hiding place. We didn't use my four-way lug wrench, or even the appropriate lug wrench that I also had in my trunk. No, my Samaritan had some kind of drill, that may or may not be called an impact driver, to move those bolts around in seconds.
But, all was not well yet in Ypsilanti. The chain that holds the tire in place goes through a hole in the wheel's rim. Once in the rim, a device turns on a hinge to form a "T" to keep the wheel locked in place. We needed to turn that "T" on its hinge to create an "I" that could slide through the hole in the rim. Alas, that joint was very, very rusted in place. Adam sighed, "I need some WD40 for this situation." I was shocked that he didn't have any in his truck BECAUSE I DID in my handy-dandy emergency kit! We sprayed that little sucker up.
It didn't work.
Adam was out of options. He went for his phone to call a tow truck. However, I had one more trick up my sleeve. In my little emergency kit, I also carry a hammer. I keep it in case I ever need to smash a window. I grabbed the hammer and attacked that "T" shaped joint. Even if it didn't undo the rust, it might release some of my frustration. It did both! The joint moved to the "I" shape, the chain was freed from the wheel rim, and my Samaritan quickly took care of the rest of the story.
Now, I'm not an ungrateful stranded victim along the roadside. I told Adam that I would like to send him a check to pay for his next date. I mean, it's the very least I could do. My Samaritan said, "You just made my day. It's such a kind gesture, but I'm not going to take your money."
That was an unexpected surprise. Who does that? But, I was not finished trying to express my gratitude.
I asked, "Do you have any kids in your life? A niece or nephew? Any kid?" He said that his girlfriend had a seven-year-old son. Well, that was just perfect. I headed back to my car. Since he wasn't going to take my money, I offered him a book for the seven-year-old. And, of course, it wasn't just any book. It was one of my books that I'd written and illustrated, Anansi and the Market Pig.
Everyone left happy that day. Adam was thrilled with the book. Hopefully, the kid was as well. And, once again in my life, I was surprised by the kindness of strangers - even in Michigan, I mean . . . that state up north.
Well, I sort of had my own Good Samaritan moment recently. Details changed in my tale, of course. There was no priest or Levite. Certainly, somebody from Ohio could easily be despised by certain people in Michigan. (Usually, I say "that state up north" instead of stating the name, but I really have to be gracious in this telling.) If you wear an Ohio State T-shirt, you could be beaten up by the most devout Michigan fans. Possibly. More likely not. But, for certain, you'll get comments which may or may not be nasty.
Anyway, there I was driving in Michigan.
I wanted to get across the border as fast as possible. It wasn't because of anything against certain people attending university in Ann Arbor, Michigan. No, gas was thirty cents a gallon cheaper in Ohio. But, I didn't make it. I really didn't make it. I was zipping along at a very legal 70 miles per hour when I decided that I had to exit for gas in Ypsilanti, Michigan. My tank was near empty and I couldn't take the chance. So, I took the exit, and slowed down, but it was too fast to miss a giant pothole on the road. My brother-in-law always says that the roads in Ohio are better than the ones in Michigan.
I'm now a believer.
I hit the pothole so hard and fast that I knew I damaged the tire. I'm not very mechanical at all, but I do carry an emergency kit in my car. I pulled out the canister of "fix a flat" to see if that would work. Not a chance. The sealant just poured out of the gash in the tire. I was going to have to change the tire, and I honestly can't remember the last time I ever did that.
At that moment, I really wished I was in Africa. I had several flat tires when I drove across Zambia. And, every time, no matter how far into the bush I drove, someone always showed up who was more than willing to change my tire for me. How people who didn't own cars knew how to do that remains a mystery to me. But, they knew that they would earn a few bucks from the stranded foreigner, and I considered it one of life's greatest blessings while I was in Africa. Everyone won.
But, alas, I was in Ypsilanti.
I know that the spare tire for my car is located underneath the trunk. You get access to it by unscrewing a bolt in the trunk. That action lowers a chain that holds the tire securely outside and underneath the car. I have a special kind of lug wrench that is specifically made for my car, just to serve that purpose. I didn't reach for it. Instead, I grabbed a four-way lug wrench, shaped like an "X", to attempt the process. It didn't work. There wasn't enough room in my very tiny Fiat 500 trunk for the "X" to turn that bolt. I only struggled a few minutes though. I think Adam, my Good Samaritan, was in the very first car to pass by.
He really shouldn't have stopped. He was heading to see his girlfriend and this would make him late. But, Adam was not one to pass by someone in need, even if the car has an Ohio tag. His father was one of the local "go to" men in the area for towing vehicles to maintenance shops. So, quite naturally, Adam had almost everything in his trunk that was needed to be a Good Samaritan in this situation.
We successfully lowered the spare tire from its hiding place. We didn't use my four-way lug wrench, or even the appropriate lug wrench that I also had in my trunk. No, my Samaritan had some kind of drill, that may or may not be called an impact driver, to move those bolts around in seconds.
But, all was not well yet in Ypsilanti. The chain that holds the tire in place goes through a hole in the wheel's rim. Once in the rim, a device turns on a hinge to form a "T" to keep the wheel locked in place. We needed to turn that "T" on its hinge to create an "I" that could slide through the hole in the rim. Alas, that joint was very, very rusted in place. Adam sighed, "I need some WD40 for this situation." I was shocked that he didn't have any in his truck BECAUSE I DID in my handy-dandy emergency kit! We sprayed that little sucker up.
It didn't work.
Adam was out of options. He went for his phone to call a tow truck. However, I had one more trick up my sleeve. In my little emergency kit, I also carry a hammer. I keep it in case I ever need to smash a window. I grabbed the hammer and attacked that "T" shaped joint. Even if it didn't undo the rust, it might release some of my frustration. It did both! The joint moved to the "I" shape, the chain was freed from the wheel rim, and my Samaritan quickly took care of the rest of the story.
Now, I'm not an ungrateful stranded victim along the roadside. I told Adam that I would like to send him a check to pay for his next date. I mean, it's the very least I could do. My Samaritan said, "You just made my day. It's such a kind gesture, but I'm not going to take your money."
That was an unexpected surprise. Who does that? But, I was not finished trying to express my gratitude.
I asked, "Do you have any kids in your life? A niece or nephew? Any kid?" He said that his girlfriend had a seven-year-old son. Well, that was just perfect. I headed back to my car. Since he wasn't going to take my money, I offered him a book for the seven-year-old. And, of course, it wasn't just any book. It was one of my books that I'd written and illustrated, Anansi and the Market Pig.
Everyone left happy that day. Adam was thrilled with the book. Hopefully, the kid was as well. And, once again in my life, I was surprised by the kindness of strangers - even in Michigan, I mean . . . that state up north.
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