"I hate this car."
Last night I was almost 100 miles out of Durango as I listened to 10-year-old Alex, her teeth chattering in the cold Colorado night, complaining about the broken down Cadillac she and her Grandma were riding in when it died about 10 minutes before I picked them up in VanGo, my heater-less '72 VW bus.
"We shoulda taken one of the other cars," Alex was telling me, "but my Grandpa said we should take this one."
I'd been chugging up a steep, unfamiliar mountain road, wondering if MY old car was gonna break down. In the darkness I noticed a car pulled over. Its hood open. With what appeared to be 2 shadowy figures lurking near the driver's side door.
I didn't want to pull over. I was running behind yet again and I wanted to just keep going. As usual, my first instinct was selfish apathy.
Then I had flashbacks to all the people who had helped ME out....
* Excerpted from B.O.B. a blog story (vol. 1 — here & there), our first book of stories and photos.
A few days after our chance meeting, I got this email from Alex's mom:
"My name is Sharna and I am Alex's mom. I think you are a wonderful person and wanted to say thanks a bunch for making sure my little girl was safe. The world could use a lot more people like you. I am truly grateful for all the things you did for my mom and Alex and so was Alex. She came home last night and told me and her dad all about you. She thought you were pretty cool and had mentioned maybe being a pen pal if that would be possible. Maybe in the future I wish there was some way that I could repay you for all of your kindness. If you need something please feel free to contact me. I will try to do what ever I can to help.
Thanks a bunch and lots of luck to you and VanGo.
Still waiting on that pen pal letter, Alex. :)