A Matter of Perspective

During a period of time in our lives when we need reliable transportation, it seems that our aging vehicles do not want to cooperate.  The Mini Cooper would not start last week, so I jumped it off and drove it to Highlands Automotive, where it was determined that the battery was probably not dead; it tested OK, and the alternator was also working.  I drove it home, grateful not to have to spend money on an "exact-fit" battery.  Mini parts, even batteries, are costly!

The next morning, it would not start again.  It being a holiday weekend, I waited until this morning to call; the logical conclusion is that the battery is, indeed, dead after all, and the new one will not arrive until tomorrow.  Meanwhile, I drove our faithful Honda CRV to Town to go to the bank and the Post Office, and on my way I stopped at Mountain Findings to donate some items.  The thrift store raises thousands of dollars every year and gives it all away on worthy causes, so we always donate things we no longer need instead of throwing them away.  While I was standing at the donation door idly chatting, I noticed something strange about my left rear tire; on closer inspection it was a nail protruding from that area between sidewall and tread which often cannot be easily patched.  So to make a long story short, Highlands Automotive also has a new tire on the way and the CRV has both a temporary patch and a strong suggestion not to take it out of Town.

I told Mary Jane, who was sympathizing with me from behind the desk, that as they knew my only other vehicle had a dead battery.  "If this tire goes flat," I said, "The only thing I know to do is to jump off the Mini and leave the engine running 24/7!"  But on consideration, we were fortunate after all that I had spotted that little nail; the tire could have gone flat on a trip to Franklin taking Martha's Mom for a radiation treatment, or in the middle of the Cullasaja Gorge.  It's a matter of perspective.

On the way home I stopped for a second time at the Post Office (we are expecting packages).  It had been raining off and on all day and I had not realized how slick the floor was.  "Hi, John," I said to one of my friends standing inside the door, and immediately slipped and fell.  "Are you all right?" he asked in some alarm.  "Oh yeah, I'm a runner; I know how to fall," and I quickly climbed back on my feet.  A woman wearing a mask, who had been sitting on the bench inside the door (and whom I recognized in a minute or two), said, "You get points for being graceful, at least!"

I am not a litigious person, but I could not have sued the Post Office in any event; I had nearly knocked over the sign directly in front of the door which I had ignored.  And after all nothing was broken, nor likely bruised.  It's a matter of perspective.

I checked in with Martha on my mobile phone, and told her what had happened.  "Are you hurt?" she asked in alarm.  "I'm fine."  "Are you sure?"  I said I was.  Then she said, "Imagine if it had been an old person!"

I loved that!  When I went into Reeves Hardware, my next stop, I looked in vain for somebody I could tell the story to, but without success.

So I'm posting it to my blog.