When you get the chance to do something good, like help a stranger in need, you have two choices.
You can pretend you didn’t see them and continue on your way, which is what I usually do, or you can stop and ask if you can help.
When I saw the large, older van turned at an angle, pretty much blocking Rice Street just beyond where both lanes merge from Kaumualii Highway, my first thought was, drive around and keep going. This is not my problem and I’m in a hurry.
It was a Friday evening, I had gotten off work early for once and my wife and I were headed to see “Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom.” And, being the cold, cynical journalist that I am, I wasn’t inclined to mess around with someone’s broken down van on a busy street. Besides, we hoped to swing by my friend Tom Iannucci’s Pietro’s Pizza Kauai after the movie. And while I’ve changed alternators and starters, even a fuel pump, my knowledge of vehicles is limited and I doubted I could really help.
Nope. Not dealing with this.
So, naturally, I stopped.
“What’s the problem?”
The man behind the wheel said he had run out of gas and then, attempting to squeeze that last ounce of fuel to get it started again, had drained the battery. Hmmm. No gas, dead battery. A lousy combo.
I didn’t have a gas can and neither did the driver, I believe he said his name was Brent.
I suggested we push it uphill to a driveway, around 30 feet, to get it out of the road. Brent doubted the two of us could push a heavy van uphill, but I was sure we could do it, and asked another man to join us. The three of us managed to get it rolling, well, a few inches, when a Kauai Bus pulled up. The bus was too big to pass. The woman driver, friendly and smiling, hopped out and joined us. We got it about 10-15 feet when my creaky old back began to buckle. The bus driver suggested we just let it roll backwards, but crank the wheel to angle it off to the side of the road. Brent let it roll right up on the sidewalk, braking right before it was about to hit a fence.
The good news was, traffic had room to pass. The bad news, the van was still out of gas.
I had done my part. I was free to leave. No, I couldn’t just drive away. Now I was committed. If I didn’t help, this guy was stuck and the police would likely be here soon and have it towed.
“Tell you what,” I said. “I used to live just a mile from here and I know there are gas cans there. I’ll drive and get them, zip to the gas station, fill them up and be back in 15 minutes.”
Brent, surprised, said OK.
I hopped in our Honda Fit. My wife called our former landlord and he said sure, swing by and pick up the gas cans. Once we had those, we shot back to the gas station, filled them up, and returned to our new friend’s broken down van. Good thing we hustled.
When we got there, three police cars were waiting. As I ran up holding two gas cans, I heard an officer saying to the dispatcher, “He says a guy is on the way with gas.”
“I’m here,” I shouted, holding up the red cans like they were Olympic gold medals. “I’ve got the gas.”
These officers were friendly and patient. While they wanted the van moved and told Brent to call a tow truck, they waited while I poured gas into the van’s tank, a lot of it spilling onto my hands. It was taking too long. Brent, worried about the cost of a tow, took over pouring the gas while I ran to get our Fit. I rolled it up to the front of the van and popped the hood. We connected the battery cables, let it run for about 30 seconds, and I prayed, please start.
He turned the key. The engine belched out black and white smoke and roared to life.
Brent thanked me profusely and offered me $20, but I declined it.
“It’s a gift,” I said. “We’re just glad you got it started. Now, you better going before it dies again.”
The officers standing nearby, amused, nodded in agreement.
I backed up the Fit, and Brent pulled away in a cloud of smoke. A few seconds later, we drove past as he was pulling into the gas station. A honk and wave and we were going our separate ways.
Even though I now reeked of gasoline (and it wouldn’t really go away for two days), it felt good to have helped a complete stranger, to have made a difference for the better in someone’s life. I think, perhaps, those opportunities are around us more than we think.
Too late for the 6 p.m. movie, we changed our plans and drove straight to Pietro’s. I warned the manager, Thomas Iannucci, who happens to be the Illtalian rapper and Na Hoku Hanohano winner, I stunk of gas and declined our usual hug.
No problem, he said with his big smile. They had just opened a new outside seating area. Perfect.
We had it all to ourselves.
•••
Bill Buley is editor-in-chief of The Garden Island. He can be reached at bbuley@thegardenisland.com or 652-0148.
Do you know the difference between then and than? Is there any editing done where you work? This is the headline of your story!!!
Just a word: thanks.
A few years a co-worker stopped by the side of the road to help a man change his tire. It was dark and a bit rainy so the truck that ran him over did not see Jim. He died that night. The path to hell is paved with good intentions.
Yes it should have been than, not then. Who doesn’t make a mistake like that on occasion.
The point is, it’s a very good story. Gracias.
Jonny. That is the proper use of the word ‘than’ in its’ context. Basic English. If the word ‘then’ was used, it would have meant to stop and help then keep driving. The word ‘than’ makes the meaning it is better to stop and help and not continue driving.
The aloha spirit in action. E Bill Buley mahalo nui loa!