And now for a fun story. Me and Lincoln were driving to go see Jason at work several weeks ago. It was kind of a big deal to me because I hadn't been venturing out much, so GOING somewhere that wasn't totally necessary felt like a huge step. I was headed to Costco to get some gas because I knew I would run out soon. I stopped at the bridge just near my house, waiting for the light to turn green. I pushed on the gas and nothing happened. I push again and again. I turned the car off and turned the car back on.... nothing. The bridge has 2 lanes and is very narrow. So many cars were trapped behind me. They finally just started driving around me. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't really upset or panicked. I just didn't have a lot of options. Even if I could push the car (which I probably couldn't), someone would have to steer. I started thinking of my options. I could call Jason and hope that no one would run into me while I waited 25 minutes for him to get there.
A nice guy stopped and tried to help me figure out what was going on. He determined I was out of gas. I was relieved that something wasn't REALLY wrong, but kind of embarrassed; especially after all the times I have been relentless with Jason about running out of gas. "I am just so responsible that I NEVER run out of gas... I would think...." Nice. I guess those long car rides in the evening got the best of my sense of being responsible.
Anyways, this guy pushed the car to the side of the road on highway 6. There was a gas station just across the street so I decided I would just walk over there and get some gas. The guy offered to take me, but I declined; partly because I knew "I could handle it myself" and was embarrassed that I had run out of gas in the first place, and partly because I didn't know him. I got Lincoln out and we walked across the street to get some gas. Lincoln is a big boy and wanted me to carry him. I am usually fine doing this. I like to have a little one in my arms and that road is very dangerous so I was happy to comply. I carried him over and bought a gas can for $20.....that's right ....$20!!! I should have just walked the 5 blocks home and got the gas can in my garage! That really didn't sound appealing with Lincoln as I knew he would want to be carried. After getting the gas, I walked back across the highway holding my purse, the gas can, and Lincoln and made my way to the car. I made Lincoln get in the care while I tried to put the gas in the car. The gas tank was on the drivers side meaning that I was right by the oncoming traffic. I was trying to do it quickly because the cars were whizzing by. I had to keep one eye on the traffic and one eye on Lincoln. He is a little adventurous and, although I had explained and warned him about getting our of the car, you just never know with him.
After a bit, I realized that the gas wasn't moving from the can to the car. I didn't know why. I realized it was some special safety feature so I took the gas can to the safe side of the car and tried to figure it out. I was perfectly calm and happy until this point. I COULD not get it to work. I'm sure it wasn't that hard, but emotionally I was not up to par and I didn't have a lot of brain power. Plus I was trying to make sure Lincoln stayed in the car so he wouldn't get ran over. I was wearing thin. I could tell. I called Jason and was basically yelling about how stupid this gas can was. But he couldn't really help me because I was too upset. He told me to send a picture of it so he could help me. I did, but was completely frazzled knowing that I had no patience to figure this out....even with a guide. I did the only logical thing I could think of. I took the spout off the gas can and threw it in the mud.
Then I just sat there trying to think of the next step. I knew I could walk home with Lincoln, but I was a little concerned about leaving my car on highway 6 and knew at some point I would either have to figure this out or wait for Jason to come home from work. I could have called someone in my ward, but really didn't think about it. My brain was not working properly. I was so frustrated.
Then another guy pulled over. He flipped his cigarette butt into the mud and walked towards me. He had long hair and a ton of facial hair. I wasn't concerned because I was in such a public place.... and besides, those aren't usually the ones to be afraid of. Its the tall, well groomed charismatic types that are the real psychos. Anyways....he walks over and says, "You're probably thinking, 'Oh *#@&!!! A guy with long hair and a beard just stopped!'" I just laughed so hard. It turned my terrible moment into a humorous one. Maybe I shouldn't laugh at foul language, but it was funny (so I laughed). I felt like an idiot explaining that I didn't know how to WORK THE GAS CAN! I had to walk over and grab the spout out of the mud. I know...I'm super mature and have excellent problem solving techniques. He could have made me feel stupid, but he went on and on about how stupid these gas cans are and they shouldn't make them like that. It made me feel a little better. He showed me how to use it and it wasn't that complicated, but I never would have figured it out in my current state. I couldn't process what the directions said....that seems to happen from time to time; especially at the beginning stages of my grief. I literally couldn't follow the simplest direction. I apologized that his hands would probably smell like gas the whole day. He told me about this great product sold at CAL-ranch that gets the smell out of anything. He told me his wife makes him use after he goes hunting, but he said I could use it for onion smell on my hands after cooking. Of course I forgot what this wonder product is called. I was just so grateful for his kindness. He could have looked at my car and my plight, and thought, "What a stupid girl. She'll probably call triple A." The only reason I say that is because I grew up on "the other side of the tracks" and heard things like that said in reference to people who were more affluent. I'm not saying we are rich now, but my car isn't a beater.
We had some beaters growing up. The best one was called "The Beast." It was an old Jeep Wagoneer...not sure what year....probably '78 or something. Only some of the seat belts worked. It constantly smelled like exhaust so you knew you would have a headache if you rode for more than 5 minutes. One of the doors would randomly swing open when you would go around corner. It didn't happen all the time, so it was like a fun surprise when it did. That was a little scary because it's not like you were secured by the seat belt or anything. One time we were driving, as a family, on an old highway. There were no lights. The lights in "The Beast" stopped working, but the hazard lights worked, so we drove with flashing lights. At one point. we hit a mattress in the road (because we couldn't see very well). My mom thought it was a person. One time we were driving and the gas pedal got stuck down. It eventually came unstuck. That was fun. One time a pregnant mouse lived in our car during our vacation. We would open up all the doors at night, while we camped and hope the little critter would scamper away, but to no avail. We found half eaten paper towels and other traces as we unpacked the next day. It must have been living in the seats. We eventually caught it with a mouse trap. Needless to say, I did not grow up with a luxurious car, so I know the difference.
I was grateful that guy was not judgmental about my plight, for it was a true plight. Had I been in a different state of mind, it may not have been. It's amazing how far a small action like that goes when you are feeling totally unable to meet your own needs. The entire experience was probably about 4 minutes, but it touched me. I was so grateful. You never know how impactful a small action like that will be. That is such a cliche, but a true one. He didn't know that I had just had my son die a couple of months prior and that my brain literally didn't process simple directions. He could have thought me a totally incompetent, but he was kind and helpful and a real person.
I was in a desperate situation (okay maybe desperate is too strong a word), but I felt desperate. I felt unable to meet a simple need that I had. It's amazing how directly that affects your heart when someone comes to your aid.
I have felt "out of gas" a lot the last 4 months; more the first couple of months than now, but I still run out too frequently for comfort. It didn't take a great deal of time or energy for these men to help, but I NEEDED it. I am grateful for all of the times that people have come to my aid when I have been out of gas. I am grateful for the meals, because I couldn't seem to understand the concept of combining more than 2 ingredients. It was overwhelming. Grief does that to you. I am grateful for the heartfelt questions about how I am feeling. I am grateful mostly for people loving me and filling up my gas tank even though it seems like I may have all the "tools" to do it. I had all the tools to fill up my car that day. I literally could not do it. I'm grateful for those people who don't keep score and make me feel like I am in debt to them for helping me with the gas can valve; Who don't act superior to me through the ordeal; For knowing that I am trying, even though I am acting like an idiot and throwing stuff in the mud. I am grateful when they push my car to the side of the road and don't chide me for running out of gas. I am grateful that other people are there when Jason is 25 minutes away and that seems to far. And I'm glad that Jason is so sweet, and doesn't question my bizarre behavior and tell me to be nice and cordial....instead he just tries to help through my crazy, emotional rants about gas can valves or whatever the current issue is. He doesn't say, "As soon as you can act like a rational human being, I will help you." (Which is a highly warranted thing for him to say... I say that to my kids all the time). "I will help you when you can treat me fairly and with the respect I deserve. I will help when you calm down and stop throwing the gas can parts." He knows that my grief is not me. He sees my pain and not my behavior. He just tries to help; through the tears and irrationality of my emotions. I don't know what I would do without him. Thanks honey. Really, thank you.
