Steer into random acts of kindness

With sickening lurch, my tires refused to roll another foot down Lusk, Wyoming’s Main Street. I repeatedly shifted my silver Jeep Compass in and out of drive, hoping I could convince the small transmission to engage. After about 15 minutes of desperate shifting and engine revving, I came to the realization that my recently-purchased car refused to move an inch. I slammed my fist into my steering wheel, blaring the tenor-like horn in frustration. Accepting my stranded fate, I switched on my caution lights as rows of vehicles passed.

I’m no stranger to vehicle troubles, I’ve gone through four of them in the past five years. I’ve witnessed the lives of each of my precious metal sweethearts end before my eyes. My old minivan was t-boned by a massive pickup truck three years ago. My speedy Audi met her demise two years ago, when a suicidal deer nose-dived through my windshield. My last vehicle, a green toaster-shaped Honda, was stolen in Chadron last year, before showing up on the nearby Pine Ridge reservation torched to a crisp.

As my caution lights blinked through the pitch-black night, I decided I needed to, at least, push my now-useless hunk of steel out of the road. This proved to be difficult, as simultaneously steering and pushing didn’t leave me much momentum to get rolling on the uphill stretch of asphalt. Just when I considered calling a local towing service, a fist knocked gently on my driver’s side window. As I rolled the window down, the fist’s owner made it clear that he was there to help.

“It looks like you might need a hand,” a cheerful, middle-aged man said.

I graciously accepted his offer, and asked if he could help steer my Jeep while I pushed it to the side of the road. With a boisterous chuckle, the man insisted on taking the brunt of the job, walked to the back of my car and began heaving with the strength of an all-star lineman. Within minutes of our combined efforts, my car was safely parked in a roadside motel parking lot.

Afterwards, the man, whose name I never caught, invited me into his house nearby. He explained he was all-too familiar with vehicle troubles, and had always wished somebody had been there to help him. 

A bit awestruck with this incredible act of kindness, I thanked him for his generosity, but declined his offer, mentioning that I was waiting on a ride back to my hometown of Douglas, Wyoming.

Vehicles can be tricky, disappointing machines. This likely won’t end anytime soon. 

As frustrating as my most recent car ordeal had been, I didn’t feel unfortunate, I couldn’t. Rather, I felt a sense of gratitude toward this complete stranger who could’ve easily ignored my situation.

Even in stressful, hair-pulling situations, the smallest acts of kindness can illuminate the darkness.