On days like today, I feel a little bit like Blanche DuBois in Streetcar Named Desire. Say it with me, kids, full of languorous summer heat and a slow Southern drawl:
Ah’ve always depaynded upon the kaindness… of strayngers.
My little VW Golf is a great city car, in the summer. I can haul most of what I need to haul, and it’s great on gasoline. Recently, it’s had the pleasure to carry two massage tables at once, complete with bags full of sheets and blankets, back and forth to Waldoboro with my carpool buddy riding in the passenger seat. But boy, is it just not that great in the snow.
The 13 inches that fell yesterday were powdery and light, almost like fake snow. Skiiers should be happy. So should my friend who’s visiting Maine from Colorado and had been bemoaning the lack of good skiing. When I went down to the snow ban lots near the beach this morning, most cars were already out, and one guy about my age was swiping snow off of his little Honda in big sweeping motions of his arm. He pulled out of his spot without even the slightest bit of shovelling.
I got in my little Golf and did not move. The front wheel had caught some ice, and was spinning like mad.
This complete stranger came over and helped out with a dig, a couple of pushes, and I was free.
And you know what’s great? This happens all the time. I’ve had the pleasure to help out my neighbors too, people I’ve never met and may never see again.
I love this town.
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