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Welcome to Inspire !
Start today with a smile
Please feel free to share this with others
& encourage them to sign up for their own smiles !
"MAYBE IT'S YOU"
It was one of those cold winter nights in the Haight
district of San Francisco, the kind where the rain hurts,
and your breath forms huge cotton balls that bounce on
the pavement.
I was driving an eyesore that could only be referred to
as a "car" by someone who was either a shameless liar or
a good friend.
Technically, the vehicle was totalled when I bought it
from an unscrupulous neighbor, because it needed an engine
overhaul that would have cost more than the car itself.
I added a quart of oil before every journey. Most of it
would leak out along the way. I tried to imagine I was
driving a huge magical snail; that way I didn't mind the
slow speeds and the slime trail it left.
The car's outer paint had transformed into a hideous
mixture of rust and "something brown." The engine sounded
like a lawnmower with tuberculosis. If anyone ever wondered
what the inside of an automobile seat looked like, my car
had the answers. It was a difficult car to drive because
you had to keep your fingers and toes crossed to keep the
engine running.
That night I must have uncrossed my fingers to scratch
something. The car died in the middle of a four-lane
stretch of Oak Street. I coasted as far as I could, hoping
for a place to turn off, but the street was lined with
parked cars and the nearest intersection was beyond
coasting distance.
There I sat, in busy evening traffic, no lights, no
locomotion, as tons of steel and plastic screamed by.
In my rearview mirror I saw a pair of headlights pull
up and stop behind me. I knew what was coming.
Soon the horn would start and someone would be cursing
at me.
In San Francisco, if you dawdle too long after a light
turns green, you get the horn. If you dare to come to a
full stop at a stop sign, you get the horn from the car
behind you. I figured I was begging for trouble.
But I was wrong.
A stranger got out of the car and came to my window.
He shouted, "Do you want a push?"
I was stunned but must have nodded in the affirmative.
He waived to his car and two teens piled out to apply
themselves to my bumper. When I was safely delivered
to a side street, they hopped back into their car and
rejoined the sea of anonymous traffic.
I didn't get to thank them.
Over the years I've realized something about the stranger
who stopped to help. I've noticed that every time I'm in
trouble, he appears. He never looks the same. Sometimes
he's a woman. His age and ethnicity vary. But he's
always there.
I've started to understand he's the best part of what
makes us human beings. The one true thing in this world
is an unasked kindness provided by a stranger. It's the
invisible cord that binds us all together and makes life
worthwhile.
This year, when you find yourself immersed in the clutter
and bustle of the holiday season, annoyed by the long lines,
baffled about how you'll get everything done, remember this:
One of the people in that crowd is the stranger. Today,
maybe it's you.
Have a great holiday season, everyone.
-- Scott Adams <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
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Cute Sites O' The Day:
-------------------
On Hold Record
http://www.AikensLaughs.com/forfun/funny760.html
<a href="http://www.AikensLaughs.com/forfun/funny760.html";>Here!</a>
Does It Wander?
http://www.AikensLaughs.com/forfun/funny761.html
<a href="http://www.AikensLaughs.com/forfun/funny761.html";>Here!</a>
Walk With Me
"Don't walk in front of me,
I may not follow ~
Don't walk behind me,
I may not lead ~
Just walk beside me,
And be my friend."
--Albert Camus
To read old archived issues visit
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http://www.egroups.com/messages/InspireToday/
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For MORE Great Entertainment Visit:
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