Thursday, October 2, 2008
Close to Nowhere
God turned my head!
Coming home from work last Monday I met a girl who, in a strange way, has changed my outlook on the “Good Samaritan.”
Keisha isn’t actually a “girl” — she’s probably about my daughter’s age, mid-to-late 30s.
For a brief 15 minutes or so, all my maternal instincts were in full bloom and the mother hen in me is still worrying about her.
Back to Monday evening though — I’d just turned off Hwy. 7 onto Hwy. 310. There was an SUV just a bit up the road, with the aforementioned “girl” sitting by the back tire. I looked at her, thought, “good for her, she managed to change the tire by herself,” and drove on past.
That’s when God turned my head and made me glance into the rear-view mirror.
The “girl” who I had assumed successfully changed her own tire, was waving frantically. Her face looked like she was screaming and she was very distressed.
I immediately made a U-turn and came to a quick stop behind her SUV. I couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong, but it was very obvious something was terribly not right.
It took a second for the obvious to set in. Keisha was sitting by her car after having successfully changed her tire. Except, when removing the two jacks she’d put on the car, as she was afraid of one of the jacks, the second jack slipped off and the newly changed tire landed smack on Keisha’s fingers, with the tire iron mashed between her fingers and the tire.
Keisha was crying and screaming for me to get the car off her fingers.
Brilliant me, I was going to push the car backwards all by myself. Keisha, even with her hand stuck under the car and in terrible pain, was smarter than I — she said “crank it up and drive it off!”
That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I think I was crying as hard as Keisha and saying, “It’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt.”
After the three-second drive off Keisha’s fingers — which seemed like at least an hour — I jumped back out of her car and went back to her.
She was kneeling and trying to get up and really sobbing. I knelt beside her and hugged her, telling her it was all right now.
Another motorist stopped about then — a man who was on his way to his mother’s house. His mother had had a mini-stroke and they’d called him to come. But the sight of two women crying by the side of the road was enough to make him delay long enough to stop and help gather up the tire jacks, etc.
Keisha told me that she’d been sitting there over 10 minutes and I was the first passerby to stop.
I usually pass by stopped cars — all I can offer is my cell phone. Keisha’s cell phone was on her bumper and she couldn’t reach it.
I’ll never “pass by” again!
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