Joy on the Freeway
April 11, 2014
I was on my way to my visit my girlfriend. Needless to say, I was anxious to get there. The traffic on the beltway around Washington, D.C. was heavy and slow. It was about 5 p.m. on a Friday. I wasn’t surprised by the congestion on the road.
While plodding along at about 4 miles per hour, I came upon a white van that had pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. The thing that caught my attention rather quickly was the writing on the van. It was a Christian group of some kind. The license plates were from Pennsylvania.
A sporty convertible driven by an older gentleman was driving next to me in the other lane. He too was driving at about 4 miles per hour with an occasional burst of speed that took him up to 5 miles per hour. Two gentlemen from the white van were standing in front of it examining the bumper. As the convertible slowly pulled past them, they called to him with some kind of request. He waved them off and continued to inch slowly forward. The folks in the white van were obviously in need of some help. I rolled down the passenger-side window and called out to them.
They asked me if I had a hammer. I didn’t know for sure, but something in the back of my mind told me there was a chance I had one under the seat. I pulled over and looked. Sure enough, there was a small sledge hammer on the floor behind me. When I gave it to one of the gentlemen you would have thought I had just made a $1,000 contribution to his church. He was so excited!
They had obviously been in a fender-bender of some kind as their front fender was indeed a bender. The bottom corner was pulled down so when the driver tried to turn the wheel, the tired rubbed against the bumper. I tried to pull the bumper one way. It wouldn’t bend. I got under the van and tried to bang the bumper out the other way. It wouldn’t bend. The two gentlemen took turns trying to bend it but to no avail. Finally, I grabbed the small sledge hammer and started to bang the bumper corner from the outside using my best, aggressive baseball swing motion.
It worked. After a few swings, the bumper was bent in enough so the wheel could be turned fully in either direction. We then checked the other wheel and made sure it cleared the bumper too. It did.
It was then—after their problem was solved—that I had the impression to give them my two articles of faith cards I had in my wallet. I did so, giving them to the driver. He in turn gave me his card. He was the pastor, and he was very grateful. So were his passengers. I told him when I gave him the cards that I was a Mormon missionary when I was 19. He liked that. Before I arrived at my girlfriend’s apartment, I had sent my new pastor friend a friend request on Facebook. I had also “liked” his page.
It was a great feeling to know that I can be a missionary even alongside a freeway. When I told my girlfriend about it about an hour later, she commented, “Most people wouldn’t have stopped. Good for you!”
follow the spirit, jesus christ, joy
