Friday, June 1, 2007

Hitch-hikers and angels.

I've been having a bit of a pity party lately and didn't want to invite my readers, so no posts. Also, so much good blogging was going on around Memorial Day and then Cindy Sheehan's transition out of the anti-war movement, that I didn't feel like I had anything to add. And other bloggers had better jokes, too, so why bother?

Then tonight, on the way home from a work-related event, I run out of gas. Not like -- having writer's block running out of gas. Like, my car stopped moving. On the exit ramp. Next to a hitch-hiker. I have never run out of gas before and I wasn't far from home, so I picked up my new cell phone and called my ex. Could he maybe help? No, he was too busy putting our son to bed. (At 10 p.m.??) He said he'd gotten me AAA before we split and I could call them. But then my cell phone battery ran out.

OK, so I'm sort of dressed up at 10 p.m. on a Friday night and a sketchy looking guy is standing next to my car, which isn't moving, and my cell phone won't work. Now, I'm not really skittish about hitch-hiker guys. I pick them up sometimes, in fact (do NOT tell my mother). But this guy was not giving me good vibes. But what could I do? I had to grab my purse, get out of my car and start walking.

I haven't gone one block when a pick-up truck pulls over and the woman at the wheel asks if I need help. I explain that I've run out of gas and she laughs and says she'll take me to the gas station down the road, but first we need to stop at her house (which is just around the corner) and get something to put the gas in (which she has). We turn out to be neighbors, to know people in common from her work and to both drive a Prius (the pick-up is her boyfriend's). She runs out of gas regularly. She blames it on the Prius, so I'll do that too.

Cops are on the scene ready to tow my car when we get back, but they have the hitch-hiker under control and help me get gassed up, with a simple scolding for not leaving on my hazards. The neighbor woman is rolling a cigarette as she tells me I can't pay her, but I need to pass on the goodness and promises me that the universe will bring it back to me, just as it brought her to me tonight. She smiles and leaves.

I think maybe I can get over my pity party now.

5 comments:

pj said...

Pickup/Prius driving angels who roll their own cigarettes. Sounds like fodder for an awesome Southern-gothic short story. And a miracle to boot.

I'm glad you're safe. Keep on bloggin'!

lj said...

PJ, I don't feel a story coming on, so feel free to use any or all of the elements yourself. I think it could transfer to upstate.

Ed said...

Sweet!

pj said...

No girl, I'm NOT taking your story. But thanks anyway!

Diane said...

That's a great story ... and that's just the way it happens... something comes to us from outside that shines a little light.. for us...

I'm glad you got over your writer's block. I look forward to checking out your poems from time to time.