That Lousy Driver
I wasn’t sure about sharing the story I’m about to share. I don’t like tooting my own horn or sounding that way. If I wrote it, I wanted the post to be vulnerable and relatable. My goal would be a story with a life lesson to share with the kids.
So here it goes.
I was driving home late one afternoon when I came up on an SUV traveling half on the road, half on the shoulder. It was creeping along, well under the speed limit, and the left turn signal was flashing even though there was no opportunity to turn for another quarter mile. As I passed I noticed an older woman at the wheel, barely tall enough to see over the dashboard and appearing rather zoned-out.
My first impression was that this is someone who shouldn’t be driving, period. Someone who was using the shoulder as a guide to keep herself and her vehicle on the road, overcorrecting because she was afraid of crossing the center line into oncoming traffic. As I looked in my rearview mirror, cars and trucks and bicycles continued to whiz by this wayward SUV. She’s gonna cause an accident, I thought.
Then I thought again: what if this person was having a medical emergency? A stroke, a seizure, an insulin reaction? She may need help, not admonitions. I drove on. Should I turn around, or get home to put my melting ice cream in the freezer and start supper?
Should I turn around, or get home to put my melting ice cream in the freezer and start supper?
The question kept echoing in my head. I had things to do. No one else was turning around to help, but maybe someone else would, eventually. But maybe not. Maybe this woman needed assistance, but maybe she didn’t. My family were expecting me, but maybe this painfully-slow-on-the-shoulder SUV driver needed someone right now.
I drove only half a mile but ran a marathon in my head as I tangled with what my next move should be. I’m embarrassed to admit it took me even that long to make a decision. I knew the right thing to do: make a “‘U’-y” and go back to check on this driver in distress.
So I did.
I readied myself to call 911 once I was hot on the SUV’s trail, prepared to follow her as long as I needed to in order to get an officer to her location. When I spotted the black SUV, she hadn’t traveled far from where I had passed her, still creeping along and straddling the side of the road, left turn signal winking at traffic as she turned to the right.
I followed and slowed even more as the SUV continued her drift rightward into the parking lot of a mechanics shop. I watched the SUV slow to a painful stop, and a petite woman carefully lowered herself out, steadying herself against the hood with an outstretched arm as she circled around to the shop’s entrance. And as casually as possible I aborted my rescue mission, channeling what I hoped was a breezy (can a 12-year-old minivan pull off “breezy”?) whoops-I-made-a-wrong-turn exit on to the road home.
Car trouble, thank goodness. (Now there’s a sentence I never thought would make sense.) I’m still not sure, observing the diminutive driver, that she was ok; but she had stopped her vehicle and was at least going somewhere with people who could check out her car and help her as well if needed.
But I am sure of this: I know I made the right decision. Frozen peas be damned. I feel ashamed that I was this-close to choosing my schedule over assisting someone in potential need. (So what if dinner were 20 minutes late? It wouldn’t be the first time…) I was reminded of an important lesson that day: it’s the things that take you off your planned and intended path that are worth doing. Seek and take the road less traveled, as the famous book title states. Do the right thing and go with your gut.
You won’t be sorry you did.
“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”
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