“Hey, do you need some help?” I called out to the man who was backing up his stalled older Volvo by pushing against the driver’s side door frame with his right arm and attempting to steer the car with his left.
I was crossing the street between the Mail Tribune’s office building and distribution/press building. Since I don’t often see a man pushing his car backwards in the street I was quick to surmise that he probably needed a hand.
“I can’t get the car started, so if I can get it moving forward I can jump it,” he explained.
That made sense to me since I have seen toy trucks and cars that when revved backwards and then let go, zips across the floor. Same principle--
I walked over, dressed in shirt and tie, and pushed on the front grill. He backed the vehicle up several more yards, “That should be enough!”
Putting into practice my many years of Chinese fire drills, I ran to the back of the car and pushed on the rear door of the wagon while he pushed forward on the door frame.
Once the car started moving forward he jumped in the car and turned his key. Now, I’m not really sure how this works but I think it involves shifting and clutching. I was still pushing from the back when the car clunked and shuddered a few times, then fell silent.
“Hey, can we try it again?”he shouted.
‘Sure!” I answered confidently.
I’m sure he thought we were now best buddies. After all, I learned at a young age that “when you serve someone you add another friend.” (Mr. Brady; The Brady Bunch, episode 34, about half way through)
Again, I ran to the front of the car and helped push it backwards. We backed it up several more yards this time so we could really get it revved up.
He gave me a thumbs up and I ran to the back and again pushed the car forward.
As I pushed, I imagined hundreds of people staring in amazement out the windows of nearby office buildings and a restaurant across the street as they witnessed my magnanimous act of selfless service. Wearing a tie, while pushing a car, upped the sacrificial servitude points by the hundreds. I was thinking: this is such a great way to show the world how a true loving Christian serves the helpless and downtrodden.
I waved and nodded my head in acknowledgment to my fans who were now cheering me on behind the darkened windows of the buildings. I was their hero…their answer to all that is wrong in the world.
Believing I was the focus of everyone’s attention, I leaned even more into the car, digging into the pavement with feet made of steel and rippling muscles bulging through my smartly selected business attire.
My new found friend jumped into the car as it rattled and sputtered.
Like lightning, a thought briefly flashed through my mind: …if this car starts up, and I’m pushing mightily, I’m dea….
The car suddenly jerked to life, leaving me in mid air limbo as it pulled away.
I ran for several steps, leaning forward like a sprinter diving for the finish, arms flailing like windmills, hands grasping for anything solid, eyes closing, lips mouthing unintelligible misgivings. My right knee was first to make contact, then the hip, back and shoulder. I somersaulted, cart wheeled and threw in a few pirouettes through the gutter and onto the sidewalk.
I had hoped my supportive onlookers had turned their heads for a moment as their soldier tumbled. When my body stopped rolling like a hula hoop down a hill, I sprang to my feet and ran to the passenger side of the car. The driver thought I was dead.
“Are you OK?!”he shouted with concern. “Did you hit your head?!”
I started feeling my head to make sure it was still there. Then I grinned, told him I was fine, wasn’t hurt and sent him on his way.
Then…I started to laugh. I laughed loud. Out loud. With great gusto.
I wondered how that must have looked. Either no one was watching or they just didn’t care but no one came running to my aid. I heard no gasps as I went down. No screams of horror in seeing an old man rolling down the street.
I went into the restroom to check for damage. I had no scrapes, no rips, no visible sign of the catastrophe. I started to shake as adrenaline coursed through my body. I was relieved that no one had seen me.
Later, one of the van drivers called me over to his rolled down window.
“Hey, Greg!” he teased. “My van won’t start and I wondered if you could give me a push!”
He tossed his head back in laughter as I walked away, assaulted for a second time that day.
