helpers . . .
Yesterday, I thought about looking for a used high chair on Craigslist. When Josie comes to visit (she’s 18 months old now,) it’s handy to have her sit up to the table with us and she’s coming to visit in a couple of weeks. There was a very cute one advertised in the next town over and I made an appointment to see it. The night before, I had mentioned to G. that the ever-so-slight hiccuping sound in my Subaru when it cruised at 60-70 miles an hour was still noticeable after a few months of driving (including a service tune-up,) and that sooner or later I was afraid something further might happen.
On the way to see the high chair late in the afternoon, I noticed a number of traffic stoppings by flashing police cruisers on Rt. 290 so I stayed in the right hand lane and reduced my speed to about 60 mph. I then went on Rt. 495 south when suddenly, the car gave a sighing sound and all the lights came on on the dashboard. It felt like the car had seized up and had a stroke. I steered the car over into the breakdown lane and stopped while cars whizzed alongside, shaking the car. I had my cell phone with me and called Triple A. Once connected to a live person, the dispatcher quickly said he would prioritize a tow truck to come because of my location. While he was taking down information about exactly what town I was in and which exit I might be near, a HUGE, shiny red and chrome flatbed tow truck drew up and parked behind me, its engine running. A fellow got out and approached my window, saying he could give me a tow. I put him on the phone to the AAA dispatcher and they traded facility and truck number information. Handed back the phone, the dispatcher said I was “all set.”
I was a little taken aback that this helper had arrived without even being called. Then, another fellow appeared beside him, a Massachusetts Dept. of Transportation hat on his head, who angled his truck to protrude over the breakdown lane and began waving oncoming traffic away from us. This second helper reinforced my sense of being rescued simultaneous to the time I was on the phone, calling for help. My husband, G., arrived a few minutes later after my car was loaded onto the flat bed truck. We led the tow truck back home and down our street to a place where we have our vehicles serviced. We called them on the way home and let them know the car would be dropped off after hours.
So, I have this theory that all of us will have car trouble of some kind and sometimes even accidents during our lives and that if we emerge unscathed, that it serves as a cosmic checkbox for a period of time. I’ve had a couple of incidents before this, including being hit head-on by a couple of asian kids looking for something they dropped on the floor. Another time, the wheel and the back wheel axel came loose from a car we were driving at sundown on the Merritt Parkway. No one was hurt any of these times.
I also believe there are Helpers in the Cosmos who are there waiting to help us. They appear in various forms at different times. This time, it was a guy named Hassim in the biggest tow truck I’ve ever seen, the guy from Mass. DOT who screened traffic away from our lane, and the guy on the triple A phone line. And G., my husband, who’s usually out tuning a piano at that time of day. Plus the service station where we knew we could drop off the car. We had another breakdown last year and were fortunate enough to get off the highway to a gas station located just at the end of the exit ramp. So, we have been very, very lucky. Enough checked boxes to hold us for awhile. Or maybe we’ve reached our quota and nothing else bad will happen to us, carwise anyhow!
So, I give thanks to all the forces that came together to help me yesterday in this rescue. Thanks to All.
P.S. The little orange high chair is still there, and the three-day blooming cherry tree is hanging in on its sixth day!