I belong to a group called Memoir Writers.  We meet twice a month and are assigned topics.  A while back, the topic was, either, A STRANGE ENCOUNTER or AN ENCOUNTER WITH A STRANGER.  I thought I would take the easy way out this week.  Hope you enjoy.

AN ENCOUNTER WITH A STRANGER

If mother told me about stranger danger, I did not listen to her.  To me, strangers are a story waiting to be told.  I heard a young man sing to some customers in his grandfather’s restaurant in southern Indiana.  His story?  He was earning spending money to go along with his full-ride scholarship to Juilliard.  I met a single dad, in Hannibal, Missouri, who told me, “I hated Mark Twain.  Every year, I had to write a paper on him.  When I graduated, I tossed my cap in the air and shouted:  NO MORE PAPERS ON MARK TWAIN.”  We then talked about how hard it was to be a single dad, with full custody of his daughter. 

Then there was the time I jumped into a stranger’s car.

I was in Terre Haute, Indiana.  My sister, mother, and I were having a great time.  The meal had been extra good.  The staff never said a thing about us visiting and laughing at family stories.  BUT every good thing must come to an end.  The owner came over and said, “We are about to close.”  Oh my.  We did not realize we had sat and talked that long.  We also did not realize it had rained.

 It was more of a downpour than the word rain would indicate.  The parking lot was flooded.  My car was on the far side of the parking lot.  Sitting there, all by itself, waiting.  My mother and sister agreed, “It is your car.  You can go get it.”  I did not even have a jacket to hold over my head.  What I had was a sweet, elderly lady who said, “My husband is getting our car.  There is no need for you to get wet too.  When he gets here, jump in the car and tell him I said to take you to your car.”  And I did just that! 

The car stopped.  I opened the door.  I jumped in the passenger's seat.  I said, to a very wet, confused man, with eyes that had a deer in the headlights look, “Your wife said you would be thrilled to take me to my car.  She doesn’t want me to melt.  Bless her heart.  My car is right over there.”  He took me to the car.  I told him, “Thank you.”  I got out and quickly got in my car. 

When I pulled up, my mother said, “I cannot believe you did that.”  My sister said, “I can.”

Many years later, I had the opportunity to pay it forward.  Again, I was in Terre Haute visiting my sister.  I was eating breakfast at the Hampton, when I heard a man talking to the lady at the registration counter.  “I have an appointment in 30 minutes and my rental car will not start.  Do you have a taxi service here?”  He was informed that there was one, but no way would a taxi get here in time.  The man looked worried.  He sighed loudly and said, “I have been trying to get an appointment with this company for a year.  If I do not get there …..” 

I finished the last sip of coffee.  I asked where this company was located.  It was about a mile down this street.  I looked at the man and said, “If you will wait for me while I get my purse, I will take you.” 

We walked out to my car and this stranger kept saying, “I cannot believe you are doing this.”  If I am honest, I couldn’t believe I was doing this either.  We arrived with 10 minutes to spare. 

North Manchester and Terre Haute are 186 miles apart, but news travels fast.  I called Bill.  “If you hear I picked up a man in the lobby of the hotel, I did.”