GETTING FROM HERE TO THERE
WITH THE HELP OF STRANGERS
A Widow Bit – June 19, 2011
By Mary Koch

            When travelling, one depends upon the kindness and sensitivity of strangers. There’s an exceptionally sensitive man working in the service department of a Dodge dealership in Beaverton, Oregon.

            I was on my first road trip with my Brand New Car, heading south through Portland’s morning commute traffic, when my navigation system suddenly went kaput. The GPS voice had commanded that I change routes because of traffic conditions. The voice wanted me to cross four lanes of traffic and exit right. I was having none of it. I stayed my course, and punched a few buttons in hopes of silencing the voice. I was too successful. The navigation screen went blank. No GPS voice. Not only that, no satellite radio and no blue tooth phone. My previously companionable car was resolutely silent as I struggled through traffic.

            Ultimately, I was forced to pull over and resort to the antiquated system of reading a map. After about an hour I limped into the dealership, exhausted by the effort, and got in line with all the other cars seeking service. Mr. Sensitive approached my car and asked if I had an appointment.

            “No,” I begged pathetically. “I’m travelling.” He quickly noted the gist of my complaint and gently prepared me for the worst. With the sympathetic tones you’d expect from an undertaker, he said, “It probably involves a part that we don’t have in stock. We won’t get it until tomorrow at the earliest.” I panicked. I was scheduled to meet friends some 300 miles south that very afternoon. My distress was no doubt written all over my face.

            Mr. Sensitive got into the car, started it up and after a few seconds waved me over. There was the navigation system, working perfectly.

            “How did you DO that?” I exclaimed. “You’re a magician!” I swore to him that I too had restarted the car, yet the system wouldn’t come on.

            “Well,” he said, sensitively, “sometimes it takes a few minutes.” He smiled and sent me on my way.

            Fast forward a couple days and I was enjoying the reunion with friends I hadn’t seen in ten years. During a shopping expedition, I looked at the navigation screen and moaned, “Oh, no! It’s done it again!”

            “What!?” my friend asked.

            “The navigation screen’s gone blank,” I said.

            “Oh,” she said, “I just turned it off.”

            “You turned it OFF!?” I said. “I didn’t know it turned OFF.”

            “Sure,” she said, and pointed out the On/Off button among the myriad buttons I have yet to master, the very button I must have inadvertently pushed while jockeying my way through Portland.

            Mr. Sensitive had simply turned the system back on. Maybe he didn’t realize that I’d accidently turned it off, or more likely, he was just too nice to embarrass me by pointing out something so obvious. I prefer to believe the latter. I like to think that the world is full of kind and sensitive strangers because, undoubtedly, I’ll continue to depend on them.