I'm an independent woman, I do things for myself, and I'm proud to be that way, especially having been raised in a "young ladies don't do that" kind of world. It took me way too long to start replying, "This one does!" As independent as I am, however, there is a basic task that I've never performed:
I've never changed a tire on my car.
Don't get me wrong, I'm willing and I've tried, but one thing kept stopping me.
For all that the South has it's bad points, there is one shiny pinnacle of rightness: the good old boy or girl in a pickup truck.
Within moments of parking on the roadside, throwing open the trunk and digging out the necessary (if unfamiliar) equipment, help has always arrived. We're talking people who live to assist others, and who greatly restore my faith in humanity.
Today my 22-year-old daughter called, stranded with a flat tire. I made her sister a bet: that by the time we got there, the tire would be changed. I wasn't wrong. Thankfully, it was broad daylight and she found a safe place to park in a church parking lot, that more than likely was monitored by cameras.
It was a woman who saw my daughter, a mere wisp of a thing who could jump up and down on the tire tool and still not be able to loosen the lug nuts. This woman called her husband and said, "Go help this girl." He did.
There's a lot of bad in the world, but there's a lot of good too. Like people who go out of their way to help strangers.
May they forever be.
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