Real America

The metro area I call home is not known for its kindness. This is where people come to lose touch with what it's like in the rest of the country. Stay here, in the nation's capital, too long, and lose sight of everything that's important. And while I'm not going to defend the nation's politics, which have been making me especially sick to my stomach of late, I'm going to defend my adopted hometown. To neglect to do so would be ungrateful.

On Thursday, my bike acted up on the way to work. I was able to get there and figured I'd be able to get home, but a few miles from my house--thankfully once the rain had ceased to pour itself down--my bike just stopped. I turned it over to try to figure out what was wrong. Three people biked by within minutes, all of whom asked if they could help (by the third, I said yes). He helped me identify the problem, and I was soon on my way. Then, this morning, I blew a tire on the beltway, called emergency roadside assistance, and took out the spare and the tools (I've changed a tire before, years ago, but my memory was rusty and I didn't want to be hanging out outside the car). But two guys pulled over and helped me before the company got there. Then, when my car wouldn't start, they turned their car around and jumped mine. It took them ages to turn back around safely. And they were totally nice about it.

None of this is extraordinary, I guess. I'd do the same--I've stopped to help people with their bikes, and I'd do so with cars if I were better at it. But it is kind of amazing, and my week is that much saner for it.

On a less cheezy note, never leave the house by car without a spare or jumper cables!