Dead. It was dead and could not be revived. So there I was, alone in the middle of Franklin Street, stuck and not knowing what do. My cell phone didn’t work either. I felt totally helpless, unable to contact anyone about my dire, disastrous dilemma.
That’s when a police car pulled up beside me. Flashes of headlines declaring police brutality flashed before my eyes, along with kindergarten teachings, “Policemen are our friends!” Which of those opposing truths were true?
Oh, where is my common sense when I need it? Where are the years of learning and wisdom I’ve collected through trying times? Where’s my mommy?
“Are you alright?’’ He asked.
“I’m all right,” I answered, “but my car isn’t. I can’t make it move.”
The heroic policeman, traveling all by himself without a backup, bravely opened his car door and approached my car. I may have been slightly fearful, after reading news headlines lately, but imagine how scared he might have been: What if I were hiding a dangerous firearm behind the dashboard and drawn it before he had a chance to protect himself from my murderous inclinations? Heaven forbid,I might have gunned him down before he was able to reach for his gun.
How could he have known what dangers he might have faced when he confidently walked toward my stranded car? I might have just robbed a bank and been desperate to escape before being caught. Or maybe I was hiding a body in the trunk of the car. Maybe there were fabulous stolen diamonds under the floor-mat: you never could tell.
Despite my over- active imagination, the policeman kindly , considerately and single handedly pushed my ailing car toward the curb. There at the curb I was out of danger of being run down by an oncoming garbage truck making its rounds, or a bright red car- racer being wildly and uncontrollably driven by a drug-induced person intoxicated with his mistaken sense of road-ownership.
The kind policeman offered to call my husband with his own cell phone, since mine was inoperable. A road repair was arranged. The policeman left me to attend a policeman-type meeting, the battery was recharged, and everyone lived happily. ever after.
Moving about without restrictions or burnt out car batteries is a thing of beauty and something to be aware of and appreciated. Policemen are our friends!