Random Acts of Car-kindness

My car has been on the bottom of my favorite’s list lately. It has an electronic messaging problem that's keeping me from meeting a friend for frozen margarita's and a weekend out of the city. It's fighting for garage space with the porch rehabbers' stuff. Now I must find a spot big enough to park it. I can barely mention how much money the hulk is draining each month. (Actually, I can't stop talking about it. I caught myself launching in to the tirade while my 7-year-old was getting his hair cut).

The car knows I am not happy with it. I believe it is trying to show me its worth through Random Acts of Car-Kindness.

Random Act #1: Scene: Sleet and snow spiraling at the just the moment when it's time to pick up my son's friend to take them to a playdate. Oh, joy. I am grimmacing. The very nice mom brings said son to the car. She hugs me, although we have just met. I remain relatively stony. I notice she has a beautiful smile and warm face -- and an envelope. The envelope belongs to her daughter who needs it postmarked by Dec. 1 for an early-decision college application. Warm, cheerful mom says, "So I'll just have to get over to the post office at 47th and Cottage" about 12 blocks away. With wind, sleet and snow swirling, I actually warm up and say, "Would you like a ride?" The mom is lovely and appreciative. We have a great conversation. She buys me stamps (Do you want them to say Christmas? Thoughtful, as I had just read an anti-happy holidays op-ed piece). As we drive around and I wait for her in the car, I call my friend in Boston to see how her son who had to have his appendix out was doing. Could it be true? Did the cursed car provide me a way to help a really nice woman and to give me a moment's quiet with nothing to do but take a minute and call my friend? I praised the beast on the way home from the post office.

Random Act #2: Scene: Windy and cold, Monday morning. No parking space to be found. Circle once, twice ... lose count and begin to contemplate driving car into Lake Michigan, which is not yet frozen. And then what do I see but a woman in a purple coat with a dog walking in the middle of the street. I think, "Not a good idea". With that, she waves! I roll down the window. She frantically says she is running late to the University. Can I give them a ride? (Them? oh, the dog!) I suddenly find myself feeling welcoming. Sure! I'd be glad to! She climbs in the back, full of thanks. Turns out we have sons the same age. In fact, after a longer look, I recognize her from the neighborhood. We've passed each other enough times that I had even wondered how she fit in to the mosiac of our triangle of Hyde Park. Yet, I'd never smiled or waved or stopped to say, "Hey, I see you and your dog running around the block, sometimes in the craziest of weather. Did you know once it inspired me to get out for a walk?" No, that took a Random Act of Car-Kindness.

I can't help noticing the irony: The gas-guzzling, money-pit of a car helps me stop to make time to help two women, who both added warmth and humor to my day, otherwise mirred in the tasks of daily life.

Thanks, Car. You did good.