The day already has a washed out feel to it. I find myself not so gracefully surrendering to my car stuck in the heaped snow in the alleyway where the tow trucks haven’t shoveled the road yet. Of course, I’m not surrendering. I’m fighting my tires spinning in infinite pointlessness. I shift my car in reverse and 2nd over and over again, until the rocking it produces just stops working and I am left rocking my own body back and forth. That doesn’t work either.
I’m stuck. I’m stuck and I don’t know how to move. I put my car in neutral and get out of my car, hoping that with my own strength I can push it out of the two snowy holes I made for my front tires. I slip on the solid ice I’ve exposed below me, knocking the wind out of me, but I am not dismayed. I can do this.
I grab the car thrusting my arms against the door and inside roof with my steady hands and I push.
I fall. The ice is too slippery, the snow too solid and deep and I can’t stand on it much less get my brute force to will power the car to move.
I get up, brush off my coat, and look around briefly to see who might be watching me make a fool of myself. I’m actually hoping that Murphy’s Law provides me with an entertained voyeur so I can solicit their help in this madness.
No one. I turn around, walk around my car investigating my predicament like a professional. I shake my head at myself wondering what I was going to do, I say to the air, “Yeah, I’m clueless here.”
So I go door-to-door of my apartment complex looking to disturb someone in their warmth. I find my neighbor. He helps. We push, we pull. Then another neighbor, getting into his own car spots our fanfare and comes to help. Eventually, I am in my own driver seat, driving away with my hand out the window yelling thank yous as my car drives on.
I’m late for work, again. This time, I would have made it on time, had my car not gotten stuck.