“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” – John Dunne.

When I got past my shock at being trapped in my car about to roll over and into a watery ditch yesterday, I managed to look around and see one or two trucks pulling over by the side of the road.

One of them was one of those big pick-up trucks with two huge “Trump” banners and two over-sized American flags waving alongside them.

I saw the driver get out and run through the snow and towards my car. He was in his 30’s, wearing an Army camo jacket. He rushed over to my window, which I had lowered.

“Hey man,” he said, “let’s get you out of that car.” Another man opened the door,  and the Trump guy and two more men reached in gingerly, almost lovingly, to grab me by the arms and pull me out of the car.

“Is there anything else you need?” Trump man said, looking me over carefully for any signs of bruises or wounds. I said no, and as more and more people pulled up, Trump man got into his truck, waved to me, and drove off. I waved thanks to him as he climbed into his truck, and he waved back.

We were just two people thrown together in one of those tiny dramas that define life in 2021. Our politics had no bearing on what was happening.

It mattered little to either one of us at that moment who voted for why or why. At this moment, we were not enemies but friends and neighbors, part of a community of human beings who helped one another when we needed help.

So many lessons on that moment, in that exchange.

I got a lot of messages – thank you. One I especially loved was from a woman who said “when death comes for you, it will  have to wait, you’ll be busy blogging.” I read it to Maria, we both loved it. I think it is true.

The tow truck operators were very impressed by how well my car held up yesterday as they laboriously pulled it up and over a stone wall and snowfield to get it on a tow truck.

This is a testament to Toyota, said Nathan, the AAA truck operator. I was proud of my car to hear that; I would have given him a treat if I knew what a car treat was.

I wrote yesterday how I slid off the road and onto a snow and ice field, and the car slid down the hill and almost rolled over into an icy creek. A small army of Good Samaritans rushed to my rescue and pulled me out of the car.

The car was stuck on some big boulders, and it took Nathan and another big tow truck working together to get it out in one piece.

My car was taken to the Performance Auto Body  Shop in Eagle Bridge last night, and I asked Maris this morning if she would mind driving me there to take a look at the damage; it was dark when the car rescue was completed.

“You just miss your car, don’t you?” she asked, and abashedly I admitted it. I felt bad for my car.

I kissed the car, apologized to it, and then looked down to see what damage there was. The tailpipe and exhaust seemed wrecked, and a tire might have popped. I couldn’t see what damage there might be beneath the car’s front end.

It looks a lot better than I thought it would look.

 

The car will be checked over on Monday, and I may have to rent a car if the repairs take more than a few days. I told my car he was quite brave and strong, and I was sorry to have put him through all that.

In the meantime, I can borrow Maria’s Hyundai to go to the gym or shopping.

I love my car, it’s only a few months old, and I’ll miss it. It just fits me in a way no other car has.

Yesterday was an uplifting experience. I was touched by how many people appeared out of nowhere to help me in any way I needed. And I appreciated how well my car held things together.

Watching the news, it’s easy to forget how good most people are, given a chance.

In a sense, we all long for community. I hope I get the chance to thank them as well as my car.