yeah, yeah, yeah; And everybody has one. JUST DON'T BE ONE!
Is it not the most amazing thing that one can hardly leave their home and not be exposed to some sort of sound, sight, what have you, that regardless of your particular personality trait's, your gonna' get mad as hell. I have witness'es of over ten thousand former student's, a large group of friendly acquaintance's and a hand full of family and close friend's that will tell you point blank it is a rare event to see me without a smile or laughing out loud. It is just me! I'm a happy, optimistic sort that see's that so over discussed glass half full. BUT...
Leaving my son's house just a few minuet's ago, here it comes. I turn on to second street in Dardanelle, Arkansas, (pop. 4600), to head on back to my house in Delaware, Arkansas, (pop. 90), and make the ten mile drive I've mad for over forty year's now. Having gone only a few block's in the mega-metropolis, after rush minuet, car's were stopped in the south bound lane for three block's or so. No prob.! I had some Jimi Hendrix and ice cold Brita water. I never hurry anyway. I stopped rushing the fall of 1977, but that's another story. As the traffic light changed so would go the line of car's into the left of the two lane street as best as the could dogging, sometime's almost colliding with oncoming traffic headed north.
After the end of "Castles in the Sand." and all of "Hey Joe" I moved forward enough to see the problem. A late model, white, too clean, four door sedan was stopped in the south bound lane. I said my quick little, "Please Lord, help whomever is having trouble and keep me out of it, Amen." As I got closer I saw what just freaked me out. Someone was in the stalled car! Of course as soon as I could safely I pulled off second street, parked, locked up my classic Old's 98, and went to see wth was up.
I got within ten feet of the stalled car and saw a young lady. The closer I got, the quicker my pace. This young lady was crying, and shaking from head to toe! As I approached I quickly introduced myself and offer any type of aid I could provide. The young lady replied in stammered speech and broken English, "I don't know! It just quit! I know I have over a half a tank of gas. What do I do? People are honking their horn's, even yelling and cursing at me, and I can't get it to start!" I ask her to put the transmission in neutral, and turn the steering wheel to the right, and I would attempt to push her car into the car wash. The entrance of the car wash was only a few feet and luckily this spot of second street is level, maybe a degree or two down hill. In only a few second's the car was off the street. I ask the young lady if she had anyone I could call and she replied she had already called her boyfriend and he was on the way. I wished her well, she thanked me a million time's and that was that.
I started the old Old's, cranked Jimi back on, and headed on my way back to Delaware. (Ar., not the state) I was at least a mile down the road when it hit me, "Why did no one out of at least 50 people, stop to help this person?" I still don't know, but wow! Has "it" got that bad? Did the young lady being Hispanic play into the lack of help? I'm 57, in ok shape, but not even close to a mussel man that I saw several passed her without a thought. Or did all of those other's pass this person WITH thought. That's scary.
Jd later peace
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