women on wine (& 1 on tequila) searching for life’s answers!

Introduction by our own Lindaloohoo:

Today we bring you another special treat.  It’s sweet.  It’s juicy.  It’s Mango Girl.

There are lots of reasons to love mah Mango, as I like to call her.  Aside from the fact that she is mom to a great son named Pitcher and she’s an amazing artist, with a potters wheel and a paintbrush, she also has an icon on her blog called ‘Today’s Reason To Drink.’  (As if I need a reason.  Still, an excuse is sometimes called for.)  And the coolness doesn’t stop there.  She calls her husband Pale Rider, which must win the best name for your spouse in the history of the blogosphere award.

Mango is also a two time cancer survivor.  Some pesky little ovarian cancer and some more than pesky melanoma.  When Mango Girl talks about wanting to win the Lotto, I step back and think, you have my sweet.

And when we’re not trading hot flash stories, she puts me to work on her awesome writing challenges.  She will come up with several random words and readers must work them into an interesting, so there were two girls in a bar story, or, ok, perhaps something more profound for you deep thinkers out there.  The homework is fun enough, but BONUS, she sends the winner a piece of her most awesome pottery!!

And then, there are stories like the one she shares today.  After reading, please take a minute to comment and celebrate someone in your life who did something nice for you, just because you needed it and they could.  Then, keep that feeling fresh as you go about your day and find a way to do something nice for a stranger in your life . . .

Kindness of Strangers…

When Pitcher turned seven, I was married to my second husband (but not living with him as we were in the midst of a divorce; if you are wondering, my marriage to Pale Rider is my third, and my last), living in Gulfport, MS. As Pitcher was in Houston with his father during his birthday, I obviously had to make a road trip to celebrate the little guy’s special day.

I had a very old car. Old, but reliable. My car had nearly 300,000 (not a typo) miles on it, but she was well cared for. My soon-to-be-ex-husband convinced me to take his new (used) truck for this road trip. He would feel better about my safety. Isn’t that nice?
I take said new (used) truck and head west my friends! Head west on a trip I have made so many times, I can’t even count, hence the 300,000 miles on my car (that is another story).

On the road again…past New Orleans…I pass Ponchatoula (which claims to be the strawberry capitol of the world), pass several other long since forgotten little Louisiana towns, and I hit a traffic jam in the middle of absolute nowheresville.

I hate a traffic jam. Who doesn’t? But in the middle of Podunk (no offense to any folks from Podunk) Louisiana? What the hell gives?

I am jamming to my road trip music ~ I am such a junkie for Meatloaf’s “Bat Out of Hell” soundtrack…geesh! Get’s my blood pumping! So I am ok with moving .04 miles per hour for the last 90 minutes…I am screaming along with the lyrics (you can find them HERE.)

And I mean seriously screaming, with the windows up and the a/c blasting.

OK. It has now been almost 2 hours and I have gone all of 5 miles. I am getting a little more than irritated because I have to PEE. Obviously there is an accident somewhere up ahead and the goddamned rubberneckers are making the situation worse. It’s a 2 lane highway.

Ooops. Gas is now sitting precariously close to empty.

Double Ooops!! I can’t see out the back window. There seems to be a black film covering said back window.

Triple Ooops!!! I am STILL about 4 miles from the nearest exit.

Why can’t people just drive, pay attention and not cause accidents?

I pull off to the side of the road to inspect the lovely black film which is now covering my soon-to-be-ex-husbands new (used) truck’s back window. It doesn’t look good.

I limp to the exit, now only 3 miles ahead. Still at a snails pace. Thank GOD! There is a gas station. I pull in. I leave the truck by the front door and find the nearest bathroom so I can PEEEEEEE ~ OMG! Where is a catheter when you need one????

I come out of the bathroom and find the gas station guys to tell them of my problem with the truck. (I have no idea where I am in Louisiana). The mechanic takes a quick look at the truck and clucks, in a coon-ass accent. I am thinking this is not good.

He climbs under the truck, spends quite some time under there and comes up with the news. The axel rod is broken. Ok. Fix it.
Uhm, it is not that easy. It will also cost about $1,500 to fix it.

I try to call soon-to-be-ex-husband. No answer. I am certainly not paying for this shit. It is HIS truck.

One of the mechanics offers to take me somewhere as it will be at least 2 days before they can get the parts to fix the truck and I had told them I am on my way to my son’s birthday (which is the next day). I ask him if he can take me to the airport in New Orleans. He sort of chuckles. The airport is 3 hours away.
Ok. Take me to a hotel and I will find a flight out tonight. He agrees. Mind you, I have a gun with me; a 9mm Glock, so I feel fairly safe accepting this ride. Said mechanic takes me to a nice hotel. On the way, he offers for me to stay at his place for the night. With a Rottweiler guarding the door, as well as a gun for my protection. This is when I tell him I have my own gun, thank you very much, and it is pointed right at him. He is not offended.

He drops me at the hotel and tells me he will pick me up in two hours, allowing me time to make flight arrangements, he will take me to dinner, take me back to the hotel, go home and pick me back up in the morning to take me to the New Orleans airport.

I call all the airlines for a flight out. It is going to cost me nearly $1,000 USD to get to Houston tomorrow. Houston, 4 hours away and you want $1,000 USD for this? HELL NO! I will rent a car.

Mechanic guy shows up 2 hours later, as promised. I tell him of my flight dilemma. He says nothing. We have a nice dinner, play some pool and have a few cocktails. It is now almost 10 p.m. and I need to get to bed. I have a long day ahead of me. Mechanic guy takes me back to the hotel, said thank you for the company, offers yet another gun for my safety and tells me he will be here to pick me up at 6 a.m. to get a car.

I sleep well.

Mechanic guy is right on time come 6 a.m.

We don’t go to a car rental place. We go to his place.

He has his other car waiting for me. Since we parted company last evening, he went home, changed the oil and tires, and filled the car with gas. It was mine for the duration of my trip. I would be gone for 4 days. No problem he said. He gave me his phone number and wished me a safe trip. Inside the car was a birthday present for my son, wrapped in cute baseball wrapping paper.

There was also a note for me. Inside the note, it said:

“Mango: Have a wonderful trip to celebrate your son’s birthday. If you want to stay longer, please don’t worry about the car. Just call me and let me know when you will bring it back.”
Sincerely,
Mechanic Guy.

I was floored.

I ended up staying a few extra days. I did in fact call Mechanic Guy. He was glad I was having a wonderful time.

From the money I saved flying Pitcher back, I spent the money and bought Mechanic Guy some lovely gifts from Houston.

Pitcher rode with me as I drove the car back to Podunk, LA; was picked up by some friends and headed home to Gulfport. Soon-to-be-ex-husband got his truck fixed.

I made it to 700,000 miles on my car and then gave it to a single father with 2 kids.

I will forever be grateful to the Mechanic Guy in Podunk, Louisiana.

The Kindness of Strangers.