Six Helpful People

            Earlier this week I drove 12 miles up a gravel road to Greenstone trailhead for a seven-mile hike on the Jack-Ash trail. The trail, new to me, was stunningly beautiful, with glorious long views of the Siskiyou Crest and unending displays of flowers. I strewed Mike’s ashes over the flowers overlooking that view.

            It was late afternoon when I drove the 12 miles of gravel road back down the mountain. Just before I reached the paved road, my car started making a horrendous metal-grinding sound. I stopped immediately, then tried driving again, then stopped again in alarm. Clearly I shouldn't be driving the car. I pulled to the side of the road to call AAA. 

          No cell service. 

          I had friends who lived a mile down the road, so I started towards their house for help, but when I passed a house, up the hill from the road, with some people in the yard, I called up to them: “Hello! Can you help me?”

         A man and two young girls came walking down the driveway towards me. I courteously put on my mask and explained my situation. They immediately jumped into help-thy-neighbor mode, becoming, cumulatively, Helpful Person number 1.

          The girls, Allie and Caitlin, told me the names of the goats and the dog as we walked up to the house and assured me that the dog was so friendly he would want to lick my face. At the house, their grandfather, Jim, handed me a cordless phone. Allie showed me how to use it.

            I had a momentary second scare when the AAA telephone person said the member number I gave wasn’t valid. I was afraid I had forgotten to renew my membership, but then she looked me up by name instead (becoming Helpful Person number 2, since she could have just sent me packing). When she verified that I was certainly a member, she said she would send me a tow truck but since I couldn’t ride in the cab with the driver (COVID-19), could I find a ride with someone? 

            The first person I called didn't pick up the phone because she didn't recognize the number. The next person picked up when she heard my voice and said she would meet me when the tow truck got there, in about an hour and a half. Helpful Person number 3.

          With many grateful thanks to Helpful Person number 1, who had acted like I was the person who should be thanked for giving them an opportunity to be helpful, I walked back to my car. The tow truck arrived within an hour. 

            The driver loaded the car, then waited with me, qualifying himself as Helpful Person number 4, till Kate, Helpful Person number 3, came. Then we all drove to Mike’s house, where I would leave the car and spend the night, since it was too late to go to the mechanic's that afternoon. 

          I had visions of the car being at the mechanic's for no telling how long, my having to rent a car in the meantime, money pouring out of my pocket.

           That's not how the story spun because when the tow truck stopped in front of Mike's house, Mike's super-helpful neighbor, Simon, came running out to see if he could help. He said he would take a look at the car after dinner. He said his wife was making burritos; did I want one? 

            He brought me a burrito from Helpful Person number 5, his wife, Debbie. He put WD40 on the front-door lock for me because he had seen me having trouble with it, then took a look at the car. He drove it fifty feet. Debbie, Helpful Person number 5, said the noise sounded like a rock in the brake pads. Simon agreed. He told me I should drive the car ten blocks to Les Schwab in the morning. Simon was a very big Helpful Person (number 6).

            The next morning the folks at Les Schwab took the rock out of the brakes and sent me on my way. They, of course, were helpful people, too, but they were, courteously and helpfully, just doing their job. All the other helpful people in this story were being helpful just because they wanted to be kind to someone in need.

          May we all always do the same.