A few days ago I was talking on the phone with my twin. She told me she and her husband ate lunch in Sonora, Kentucky that day. Of course, the word "Sonora" brought back a long-time memory of mine and a very valuable lesson I learned. Here's how it went down:
In 1968 I bought a used VW Beetle. It was a dark turquoise blue and had a roll top roof. I decorated this car with large magnetic yellow flowers. It was the '60's and the beginning of the hippie movement. I loved that car, especially driving through Cherokee Park in Louisville, feeling the whisper of autumn leaves as they fell inside the car through the sun roof.
On one particular fall weekend I was headed to my mom and dad's house in Celina, Tennessee. I was flying down the expressway, music blaring...when suddenly, my VW lost power. Luckily, I was able to maneuver to the far right lane and pull onto the shoulder of the expressway.
Then I began crying . . . and crying . . . and crying. What was I going to do? We didn't have cell phones in those days and there was no way to contact my family, so I just cried.
Pretty soon, an eighteen-wheeler pulled off the expressway behind my VW. A thin, older man walked up to me and said, "Mam, what seems to be the problem?"
I snorted and cried and blubbered, "I don't know. My car quit."
Then the man offered to take me to the nearest town, Sonora, Kentucky, so I could call a tow truck or someone to pick me up.
Back in those days, kids hitch hiked. People were kind, and I certainly didn't feel threatened in any way, shape or form. So I accepted the man's offer and hoisted myself up into his eighteen-wheeler. Then we took off to Sonora.
Bounce! Bounce! Bouncety Bounce! Sniffle! Sniffle! Eventually I asked the driver why his truck bounced so much and he told me his load had been delivered and he was headed home. Bounce! Bounce! Bouncety Bounce! Whah! Whah! All the way through winding country roads to Sonora, Kentucky.
Then the man gave me a few words of advice: "Mam, crying won't help in this situation. Crying won't get your car working. Crying won't get you where you need to go. Sometimes, mam, you have to just deal with a situation 'cause crying won't get nothing fixed."
I looked at him through red, tear-streaked eyes and blubbered, "I .. I. . .kn . .know."
And I stopped crying. We pulled up to an old country store in Sonora, Kentucky and the man made a few calls for me. Then we sat on the stoop and waited for a tow truck. As we sat there, he pulled out a flask and took a sip of whisky. "Want some?" he asked.
"No thanks," I said. "I really appreciated everything you've done for me."
The man and I waited for an hour on that wooden stoop. He told me about his family and I told him about mine. I learned a lesson that day: Crying doesn't accomplish anything!
"Thank you, stranger!"