I couldn’t ignore it any longer. The low-tire-pressure light was haunting me. To pay attention with a light drizzle coming down, I had to stop. I drove to the gas station and there you were, hood up, putting water in your muscle car while it was spewing steam. I patiently waited until I couldn’t stand to. Finally, you waved me over and motioned for me to go around your messed-up steaming car. I pulled around in my pretty new ride, and you motioned for me to park closer to get at the air hose. Then you held up the hose and pointed to the tire. A bit confused, I rolled down my window and asked, “Are you going to put air in my tire for me?” You nodded and proceeded to do so. I don’t know if you knew it was going to be all four tires, but it was, and so you filled each one and even asked if the gauge was reading OK. It really started to rain forcefully by the third tire. I had to get out with my umbrella and at the very least shield you while you pumped air. You were already too wet, but you were undeterred. While I stood above you, I asked about your car. You softly said, “It was stolen and then they wrecked the front end.” We talked a bit more, and I thanked you and left you soaking wet with your steaming car in the hard rain. However, you left me with a lump in my throat because you—someone down on their luck—went out of your way in the pouring rain to help a stranger for nothing but a thank you. Damn, you’re a good teacher.
I Saw You is an anonymous “man on the street” column. Email your rants and raves about co-workers or any badly behaving citizens to
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, or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
