In Need of (Roadside) Assistance

Audio By Carbonatix

First the battery light turned on for a little while. Then, suddenly, all the lights flashed together. Next, just as quickly, every needle on every gauge of my dashboard spiked, then fell. The truck died right there on the highway. I was going 75 miles per hour in the passing lane (I confess, just slightly breaking the speed limit) while driving a family member to the airport. When the battery on my truck drained, we were almost there—just ten minutes out.

Still, this was an instance when it became very clear that almost is only that. Almost doesn’t get the truck off the shoulder or produce a fairy godmother who’ll turn me into a mechanic. Almost doesn’t necessarily get my passenger to Gerald R. Ford International on time. For a mile or so, we coasted, and I maneuvered the truck over to the side of the road. It was fun for a few seconds, because I imagined I was a NASCAR driver coming in for a pit stop—I bet this is what it feels like to blow an engine out on the track!

But then, rolling to a stop, we could see planes landing in the distance, and it was like some kind of an evil taunt. Nervously, we re-checked the flight itinerary. “We’ve gotta be there at 10:28,” she said, her eyes blinking fast. “What are we gonna do?” We were ten minutes out with a backseat full of suitcases, a dead battery, and a family member with a deadline. I had my cell phone, but the nearest person I knew who could help was twenty minutes away. I had no idea what we were going to do.

It’s odd how things can happen like that, isn’t it? One moment you’re fine and dandy, and everything’s speeding along like it usually does. But then something happens that makes everything stop. The job ends. The friendship fades. Plans change. Attempts fail. Somebody gets sick. Somebody gets hurt. The money runs out. The alternator fails. What are we gonna do? Suddenly, unexpectedly, you’re stranded. Without answers and without an immediate fix, there’s a frantic feeling that sweeps in. Depending on the specifics of your breakdown, the sense of helplessness can be all-consuming.

It’s circumstances like these—when it looks like there’s no easy way out—when other people make the difference. Their prayers, their encouragement, and their helping hands are like the taste of spring after a long winter’s chill. In the midst of tragedy, a simple handwritten note can bring surprising hope and strength. At the end of another long day, it means the world to get a phone call from somebody who genuinely cares. When the pain won’t stop, friends have a special way of interrupting it. And when you’re stuck on the side of the highway and somebody else is willing to pull over, everything can turn around in an instant.

We had been sitting there for a few seconds, my family member and me, both of us wondering what we were gonna do, when, in my rearview mirror, I saw the sight that’s welcome only in times like those: blue and red lights on top of a vehicle behind me. Compared to so many others, it was just a small mess that I was in that day. But I didn’t know what I was gonna do, and that’s an awful feeling. So, I’m grateful for the officer and for the fact that he stopped to help.

You see, it matters to know that you matter to others. It’s the kind of thing you don’t soon forget. Believe me, I’ll remember our Good Samaritan policeman for a while. He let our little problem become his emergency too: when he chauffeured my family member to the airport, those blue and red lights were blazing.