I was already a little annoyed to be working late. It was 7 p.m. after a full day of work, and I’d left my husband and baby at the house so I could go to a meeting on Tybee Island. I was cutting it close and nearly late. I pulled up to the building and, like everyone else who’d arrived before me, I parked in the grass. And felt my car sink a little.
It was not a good feeling.
Surely the mud wasn’t that deep. I decided to test out my traction, and shifted into reverse. Car wouldn’t budge. In drive. Car wouldn’t budge. Just the sound of spinning tires and flinging mud.
Two trucks pulled in next to me, so I asked the drivers if they could help. They both seemed nice but neither had a chain to pull me out. We all walked toward the building because otherwise we’d soon be officially late, and they said something about helping me later.
I sat in a metal folding chair feeling totally irritated. I’d hoped to get home in time to help put Camille to bed. Not that Lee couldn’t do it without me, but I like to kiss her good night. I hadn’t had dinner. And I was stuck.
Once my presentation was finished, I headed toward the back door, not sure what I was going to do. Call a tow truck? Wait indefinitely for the meeting to end in the hopes someone had a chain?
But the men who arrived with me spotted me leaving, and got up too. They grabbed a couple of others and accompanied me out. I protested, said they didn’t have to leave the meeting, but they wouldn’t hear it.
All four lined up in front of my car and pushed. They were willing to have mud slung at them while they sweated and strained, just to help a stranger.
My car inched backward, and regained traction. I was unstuck.
I’m very grateful to those four men. And I’m glad to live and work where people will still help you because it’s the right thing to do.