Sometimes a breakdown can be a good thing
|Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my car broke down. Letting loose a string of obscenities that would make even my dad blush, I fumbled for the hood release.
Finally managing to spring it open, I flung wide the car door and got out. Snorting sharply in frustration, I circled to the front of the car, hoisting the hood with a loud squawk. Peering inside, a billow of black smoke rolled over my face, leaving my eyes burning, lips sputtering.
Waving violently, I cleared the air, knowing already that this wouldn’t be a quick fix. I stormed back to the car and fished my cell from inside.
Laughing bitterly, I tossed the phone back inside the car, burying my soot-tarnished face in my hands as I tried to decide what to do. Then, I heard the roar of a powerful engine approaching.
Headlights crested the hill, and a few seconds later, a huge, lifted truck came to a rumbling stop beside me. Squinting past the headlights to look inside, I spotted a dark silhouette of a large man—and a red hat with white lettering resting on the dash.
I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching as I cursed my luck a second time.
“Need some help?” asked a rough voice, already making its way to the front of my car.
Before I could answer, he was already at work. A few minutes later, I heard. “Try it.”
I got in and pressed the button. It rumbled to life.
Exhaling in relief, I thanked him and pulled away. Thinking back on my first impression, I was glad he had helped without waiting for my response. I might have blown my one chance at rescue.
Maybe those across the political divide deserve a chance, after all.