Good Samaritan

It was one of those scenes that show up in my nightmares, but this time I was living it. I was on my way to shoot my niece’s wedding a few weeks ago — straight from work, stress at both ends of my 40 minute journey.

As I drove (fast enough to irritate other drivers but not fast enough to get a ticket) I was thinking through my strategy: pre-wedding shots in the garden, quirky, fun, spontaneous, creative. Then on to the wedding — high church setting with breathtakingly modern and artful stained glass — that could be fun if done correctly. Nighttime reception would mean some outdoor shooting in the dark — could get dicey. The bride is an art major in graduate school — she knows what’s good and what’s not. Don’t screw up — this is for family. Mind racing. Anxiety building.

As the miles ticked by I mentally checked my list of "must-have" shots from the bride and equipment I would need. Did I have enough batteries and memory cards (learned that the hard way). Were my lenses spotless and did I even have the right ones? Was my tripod on board — the good one, not the awful one that always slips? How was I going to herd the family through formal shots after the ceremony? Play-acting the scene in my head… calling out orders in a way that put everyone at ease. Check, check, check…

Then bam. Jerked back to reality. A shotgun went off, followed by scraping sound of metal on pavement. Traffic around me pulled away and gave me room.

Shoot. ( And other words… Many other words. Very bad words.)

In my side mirror I saw a flat, shredded tire flopping as I pulled over to the side of Routes 5 & 20, just west of the Route 390. I was a good 20 minutes away from the bride and her special day. What a loser…

I made the expected calls on my cell phone: spouse (at first unreachable, then ‘we no longer have AAA coverage’ and ‘I locked my keys in my car and can’t come to help you’); then my sister and her-daughter-the-bride ('just try to get here, we’ll take pictures in the garden on our own'); then 911 (can I leave the car by the side of the road and not get a ticket and towed? Answer: 'yes'); then any friend who might be able to help, or at least listen to me cry (momentarily comforting but fruitless).

Then reality: I will be late. I will not be there to take pictures. I will ruin their wedding day.

As I sat in the blazing sun, inside my big red Astro van just outside of Avon, with no air conditioning and one tire — flat as a pancake — and a niece who was counting on me to document the most important day of her life, I thought all was lost.

It wasn’t.

Enter the Good Samaritan.

He pulled over, sidled up, and asked if he could help. Not a jerk. Not a sketchy character. Just a regular guy on his way home from work after a long hard shift. He was hot, sweaty and tired, and yet knowing full well what he was in for, still asked if he could help me change my tire.

"Yes," I said. He sure could.

And with a face-full of road dust and rust he extricated a spare tire from under my rear bumper that hadn't been accessed in, oh I’m thinking, forever. That cloud of yuk hovered over him the whole time he he worked, his back in the gravel at the side of the road. He coughed but never complained.

Likewise when he switched out my pancake-tire for the dusty, crusty, unused spare doughnut he retrieved from the underbelly of my van. Not a word. Not a whine. (Quite unlike the string of unfavorable language I uttered when I first saw the flat.)

I guess he did say one thing: As he lay on the ground inches away from passing traffic, he asked me to make sure I was out of the road and safe. (The nerve.)

Turns out that the Good Samaritan, when he's not working his day job, is a small town pastor at a local church. Just a regular guy, putting feet to his faith, doing a nice thing for a stranger, and wanting nothing in return. I gave him a Victor Post mug — at least he’d have something to show when he tells the story.

The thing he doesn't know about his random act of kindness that day, is that it changed me. Because of his one very, very good deed, I may actually be ready to believe that there are still some good pastors out there. (I’m a pastor, and I’ve met a few bad ones that have left me pretty skeptical.)

He changed my mind. He did a good thing for someone who needed a helping hand, and for someone who needed to find her way back. And he got me to the church on time. It was a beautiful wedding, and my niece married the man of her dreams.

Well done my friend. You did so much more than change a tire for a stranger.


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