tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6018017.post8039940359390332523..comments2023-03-27T03:03:55.105-07:00Comments on Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Blog: Philliphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08739563291804482089noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6018017.post-77678836814916978042008-07-28T11:19:00.000-07:002008-07-28T11:19:00.000-07:00Not too long ago, Hugo and I kept seeing cars stop...Not too long ago, Hugo and I kept seeing cars stopped along the side of the highway. Every time we noticed them, there was always some reason (real or imaginary) to avoid stopping to help. After each almost-encounter, we would discuss the pros and cons of stopping, and promise each other that if we ever could stop we, of course, would. <BR/><BR/>One night at about 11:30-ish, we were driving down to my place from Hugo's. Naturally (because a story like this isn't complete without bad weather) we were just barely out-running a storm; thunder roaring behind us and ominous clouds above us, threatening rain. Out of the darkness we notice a car with its emergency lights on and a figure frantically waving its arms, trying to flag down help. <BR/><BR/>Without a word, we both knew this was our chance to either prove ourselves or live forever knowing we were all talk and no action. <BR/><BR/>Snatching this final chance to show the universe and ourselves that we are good people, I quickly cross a lane of traffic and pull up near the other car. <BR/><BR/>In true fairytale fashion, we find a damsel in distress on our hands. Her tire had gone flat on the highway and she was now stranded because she had no idea hows to change a tire. Thankfully, between the two of us we knew what to do (Hugo and I always seeming to need each other to make up one coherent, useful mind).<BR/><BR/>It didn't take us too long to remove the scrapes of tire still left on her wheel and replace it, although, just to make things fun, it did start pouring right in the middle of the job and passing 18-wheelers we discovered are about the scariest thing imaginable. <BR/><BR/>But eventually her tire was replaced and we exchanged friendly parting words and all cautiously made our way back out onto the highway and to our respective destinations.<BR/><BR/>Of course, when we did finally reach home, I had to explain to my family why we were late. My father reacted much the same way your mother did Phillip. 'How could we know our damsel wouldn't turn out to be a kidnapper or a rapist?' 'What if another car lost control on the highway and hit us?'. <BR/><BR/>Of course all of these are very valid points, and probably all too often true. But none of them occurred to us when we saw someone who apparently needed help. This level of trust in other humans is horribly naive, I know, but I can't help but think of what it would have been like if I was in her position. Highway Rescue, or whatever they're called (and,yes, my father did give me their number insisting that next time I call them instead which I did promise to do), take hours to arrive while meanwhile she can only sit there and watch hundreds of people fly by without the slightest care for her plight.<BR/><BR/>I'm not stupid enough to try to pretend that the world is full of happy, good hearted people who only want the best for their fellow man and spend all their time singing "Why Can't We Be Friends", but I do honestly believe that if we can't meet people without starting on the belief that there is good in them, then we'll probably only get what we expect. <BR/><BR/>--UglyAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com