The Good Samaritan?

When I got in my car this morning, my car indicated that I had only 20 miles left of fuel. Not wanting to endure the Mary saga of running out of gas and having to walk miles to a gas station (and having no spouse or significant other to blame for running out of gas), I decided to fill up at my local gas station. While I was getting ready to “fill ‘er up” an attractive cougar came up to me and asked if I could jump start her car. Of course, I said yes (and for the record, I would have said yes to anyone as long as they did not have Crips or Bloods written on their jacket or tattooed on their body). (Before I continue, a brief digression discussion -- One, is an attractive middle-age woman a cougar if her prey is someone in her own age group? And this begs the following question – Is an attractive middle-age woman a cougar if she is not on the prowl, i.e., happily in a relationship? I wish we had a Supreme Court to address these types of questions).

Well, my chivalrous endeavor when south pretty quickly. One, I could not find the latch to release the hood. Now before you nod your head in disapproval, I have never had to pop the hood on my car in four years; I let my dealer’s garage do that. I also drive an European car and as any European car driver can attest Europeans do not make anything in their cars “easy” – for instance, see the almost universal disdain for the mouse in BMWs when they were first introduced (for the record, I am not a B-mer driver but I did read of the very negative reaction). So I had to pop open the manual to find out where the lever was and, of course, it was in some remote, practically hidden location with no sign indicating its location. So then I pop the hood and discover the battery is not there. Back to the manual I go. It turns out the battery is in the trunk. But, of course, it is under the floor, and my trunk is jam packed with stuff from my move that I have to find a place for since I no longer have a garage. At this point, the woman jokes, “your trunk is as bad as my office.” Little does she know that my office is equally bad. After a couple of minutes of my trying to rearrange stuff to access the battery, she suggests that perhaps she should ask someone else. I reluctantly concur, as I have a conference call to join.

So she asks another guy who thankfully for her sake actually knew what he was doing. He checked her lights and they were still working as were her interior lights so he discerned that when she parked the gear probably had not fully fallen into place. And, lo and behold, he was right and the car started right up. As simple as that. So I don’t know if a failed Samaritan is a good one, but hopefully it is the thought that counts.