As an EMS Helicoper Pilot, I absolutely refuse to sit in a car parked on the side of a highway. State Highway or otherwise, no way. Emergency blinkers on or not, you couldn’t pay me to sit inside the parked car and await my fate.

So I walked away from the car through some desert grass to a flat spot which, coming back in the morning, proved to be the access road to the parallel running railroad just a little farther away.

My main thought was, “Why would this happen? Have I been too unhinged in my thought life recently as my wife made terrible decisions about contagious kids? Maybe. But, no. I don’t really believe in such cause and effect. So why? Why can’t I just get home?”

Friends came to my immediate rescue, but not before one “Maryland Man”-type character pulled to a stop to see if I needed help. The passenger’s inability to look anywhere but forward was silly and unnerving. But, on the whole, the driver slowly developed a demeanor of, “I have more to lose than this gringo off duty cop,” and so he was happy for me to thank him and send him on his way.

Another vehicle, this time a sedan, came to a stop alongside my parked car—on an active lane of highway—and expected to see someone in the seat. Upon discovering my car was empty, or perhaps seeing the traffic behind him wasn’t necessarily going to stop, he pulled forward, and then got out and approached the car. I yelled from the side road area and he got back in his car. Unlike the MS-13 wannabe who definitely would have taken advantage of someone, this guy seemed “merely high” and in need of a loving act to square him with god.

As my pal finally approached, I still felt terror that some drunk was gonna take us all out as I quickly moved gear from my car to my rescuers.

Fast forward to this morning.

I was now, while standing a ways off the road again, on the phone discovering that the insurance-directed tow company had no idea I exist. The wind was blowing much colder than anticipated. The sun, while near constant in its role, was behind clouds. And I still had only one thing on my mind. “I will never sit in a car parked off the road on a highway. No, sir. Not me. I’m not going out like that. I’d rather freeze.”

Another rando pulls off (smartly) onto a driveway-esque point where the road would allow easy crossing of the railroad. I think, “Yup, I should’ve pulled off there too.” I walk over and say, “Thank you, but I already have help on the way.”

A 60ish year old local woman rolls down her window and replies, “What? Okay. I thought you were Jeremy.”

What a world we live in. I thought for a minute about whether Jeremy has my body type and Carhartt hoodie jacket, or my car. Or maybe both? That would be weird.

Finally, my wife, in a move totally unexpected for a million reasons, most especially the fact that I told her to go all the way to the next light just a few miles down for the required U-Turn, caught my attention by rushing to a stop and swinging the U-Turn at some random access point in the median which I honestly had not even noticed until just then.

Here’s where things get spiritual.

As this maneuver is being completed, I noticed two snow-plow-type city trucks slowly coming toward us. They were driving on the shoulder, spraying whatever they were spraying on the side of the road.

With me, faithful reader?

I tell my wife, “Please move to in front of my car so that you don’t get hit. I need to grab stuff from my car and I don’t want you guys (J- is in the car too) to get hit while waiting and trying to help me.

She did.

Slowly the trucks approached, turned their spigots down to a trickle, and gave way to pass by before resuming.

Another minute of moving gear—unprotected by those two trucks—and we were off. Success.

I am not one to find God, especially the actual, factual Biblical Father/Son/Holy Spirit, in every waking and coincidental moment.

But, right or wrong, when I saw those “blockers” slow rolling up to my family and I, and at the precise time that we were all there, I felt like maybe He was telling me, “Dude—too tight. You’re holding on too tight. It’s not your day.”