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Wednesday, July 23, 2008And On The Way Home..."Daddy, that trucker was signaling to us." You know how it feels when another driver is wildly gesturing, and you've got no idea what he's trying to tell you? It was one of those moments. Immediately, Eric feared for the bike rack. It was the first time we'd used one, and he admittedly had spent the majority of his driving hours worrying that it might, you know, fall off. Or something. The bikes were still clearly visible through the back windshield, though. "Maybe the bikes are loose." Poor Eric. I could see the tension around his eyes. We drove for a minute or two, Eric all the while eying the bikes and wondering what the trucker had tried to warn him about. He had pretty much made the decision to pull over at the next exit to check the bike rack. That's when we saw the trucker. He had pulled over to the side of the road, right before the exit. He waved to us as we passed him. "Why did he stop?" Eric sounded panicked. "Why was that trucker still waving at us?" Honestly, I wasn't worried about the overly friendly trucker. If anything, it seemed to me that he was looking out for us. We pulled into the first empty parking lot we came to. And as Eric pulled on the brakes, our trucker friend pulled into the lot right behind us. "Why is he following us?!" If I had ever suspected Eric's paranoid tendencies, this clinched it. "Why is that trucker following us? Why did he follow us?" "Ur, maybe he's just trying to help us." I don't know what made me so particularly calm. It was probably a complete lack of coffee over the past forty-eight hours. Sure enough. About six or seven miles back, the guy had noticed something blow off our roof rack. Two somethings, actually. He knew we were completely clueless, so he did everything in his power to get our attention. Everything, including following us off an exit ramp. I wanted to hug him. It seemed as though my stellar packing of beach towels and bed sheets didn't quite hold up to the 65 MPH sheer winds on top of our van. The garbage bags (yes, garbage bags...I know, I know...) had shot off the rack like overheated popcorn kernels. "As far as I could tell, they were still intact when they landed," our trucker angel told us. So. What to do? Were beach towels and bed sheets worth turning around for? At first, we were less than inclined to do so. In the end, Rachel's emotional attachment to her beach towel turned the tide. "Let's just go back ten miles," I said. "If we don't see them, we'll give up." We returned to the highway and began to travel back north, eyes peeled. Three miles passed. Four. Five. Five-and-a-half. "That's Maggie's beach towel!" We all saw it at once, on the other side of the highway. And not far from it lay the rest of our ejected linens, in a haphazard line on the shoulder. We exited, turned around, pulled over next to our lost goods. And of course the first thing I thought of was the camera. It's a good thing, really. Because how many of you have pictures like this from your family vacation?     We gathered all but one item -- Spencer's beach towel -- which we were willing to accept as a loss. But just as we pulled out onto the highway again, we spotted the errant towel. It had blown across the road and was nestled against the cement barrier. Eric risked life and limb to retrieve it. And so we got everything back, and went along our merry way. I wish I knew who that trucker was, though. Think about how far he went out of his way to help us. It's a redefining of "Good Samaritan," surely. I thanked him profusely; of course I did. But it doesn't seem like enough. He was an amazing example of loving one's fellow man. It's not that beach towels and bed sheets are irreplaceable. They're not. It's that a complete stranger cared enough about our family to interrupt his own life to honor ours. And, yeah, I won't use garbage bags next time. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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7of my readers are feeling chatty:
awwwwwwww!
Great post Jill. I was giggling at the pictures of the "linen gatherers". :)
I love stories like that... warms the heart.
Pay it forward.
A trucker did the same thing to Greg when he was on the highway driving his Ducati. Greg finally pulled over and the trucker told him his WALLET had gone flying....Greg had left his jacket pocket unzipped. He retrieved everything.....money, a signed blank check (he was on his way to get his hair cut), credit cards, etc... the only thing he never found was the insurance card. We still talk about that kind trucker that took so much time trying to get Greg's attention!
Hey!
Thanks for the comment on my blog! :)
I just wanted to say one thing-YES! I will come and dance in your garage when Miss Becky teaches there! :) haha...if only, if only...
Megan
I loved your pictures. And what memories! Those moments, oddly, stay with us longer than the vacations often times. :o)
Ohhh my gosh Jill! Thats such a good memory though! Thats great you got pictures of it! LOL Hope your all doing wonderful!
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