Last
Saturday night, I did a dumb thing. I tried to drive my little Saturn
station wagon up the short rise at the entrance to Plunkton Road from
the Granville Gulf. Ice base, snow cover, no sand or salt. About halfway up, I started to slide back down. But not straight down.
The road is crowned, so I slid slowly off to the side and into the
snowbank and there I stuck -- 9:30 p.m. and stuck in a snowbank in the
dark on an icy road nobody uses.
Wandering
around the hill, climbing snowbanks and waving my cell phone around
over my head, I found a signal and got through to home, so at least
someone knew where I was (not safe somewhere but out there in the dark
and cold). Someone would drive all the way out the other end of
Plunkton, around through Warren Village, and up Route 100 to rescue me. I
waited.
The
sound of a muffler attracted my attention to the bottom of the hill. A
little car drove up and a young man got out. "Do you have anyone
coming?" he said. "Maybe if you turn your wheel into the road, I can
push you out and you can slide back down." He
backed his little car down to a safe place and slipped and slid back up
the icy road on foot to climb on the snowbank beside the hood of my car.
"Turn the wheel," he said. I did. "OK, go." He pushed and I gave it a
little gas and the Saturn slid out of the snowbank easy as butter off
mashed potatoes.
He
walked alongside the car as I slowly let it drift back down to Route
100. He didn't live up Plunkton Road. He just saw my lights and thought
he might be able to help. He looked to be in his early 20s (but everyone
looks young to me, at age 65 myself). He was helpful, affable and
generous. When I was safely down the hill, he hopped into his little car
and went on his way, to a party, I think he said. I hope he had a
really good time.
He
certainly provided me with a really good feeling about the people who
may be poised to handle the world in the future. If there are more like
him out there, we're gonna be OK.
Pat Goudey O'Brien lives in Warren.
 
 
