The wind blew slightly on a cool brisk March morning, but the sun shone brightly. Everyone was set for a quick trip to the co-op for some needed supplies. Before we headed out, Chuck needed to unload the back of the truck, so we all rode over to the burn pile with him to unload. Driving down the ditch felt slick and mushy from all the rain, but the unloading didn’t take long. In a matter of minutes, Chuck and I had it all empty. We crawled back inside, and off we went.
Next to our garden spot and burn pile is a cornfield with a road curving around it. Due to the wet ground, Chuck decided to take that exit instead of returning the way we came. On the way out, we hit a muddy spot that grabbed hold of the wheels and would not let go.
The tires were spinning as if traction was never to be found. After several attempts to escape the mud, Chuck gave it one more shot with wood planks—still nothing. The ground had the wheels hugged in tight. The girls and I stood back watching, and I whispered a silent prayer.
At about the same time, a truck came passing down our road. As he passed, he gave a friendly wave as folks do, then, as if he realized what was wrong, he slammed on his brakes and threw it in reverse. He backed down to where Chuck was stuck and jumped out, hollering, “You need a tow?!” Chuck laughed and replied a relieved yes. The man opened his tailgate and grabbed a tow chain. After several muddy minutes, Chuck emerged from under the front end, finding an excellent place to hook the chain.
Chuck stated, “Nothing like getting stuck first thing Saturday morning.” The man followed, “Just wouldn’t be right to start the day off any other way.” It wasn’t long before the engine revving started, and Chuck was free from the clutches of the mud.
Watching from a distance, Charlotte strapped to my side and Eva standing close beside me, I cheered when the truck was free. Eva said, “Mommy, it is embarrassing to get stuck.” Looking at the man reach out to shake Chuck’s hand, I consoled her by saying, “Not really, everyone gets stuck now and again and needs a helping hand to pull them out. God always sends people at just the right time.” I walked away at that and went to share my own gratitude.
Hot on my trail, Eva arrived at my side just in time to hear the man say, “Man, I’ve been there. Glad to help you out. Normally I go another way, but something told me to turn down Lees Creek. I’m glad I did.”
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It was an old blue two-door Skylark Buick. The doors would take the hand off a grown man they were so heavy. It tried to take my thumb with a click of the handles. The doors were closed tight with my thumb locked inside. I survived and so did my thumb.
A man we called “Tiny” gave the car to my parents to use until they were able to get another car. We named it the Bat-Mobile. Dad had to put it in the shop for some maintenance, so while it was in the shop, Dad walked over to Buhl’s laundry to see a new friend he had come to know.
Paneled walls, his metal desk, and black office chairs never changed for over twenty years. Neither did the man behind the desk; white button down, black slacks, and penny loafers was his daily attire. I can see him as if it were yesterday tapping his fingers on the oversized calendar that graced his desk.
Harvey Buhl had been inspired by the young preacher who had come to settle in Pierre. Far from his roots down in Tennessee, the preacher had set out for adventure and to answer the call placed upon his heart from the Lord. Money was tight, but God’s leading comforted my parents in the early years. Harvey, a self-made man, greatly respected others who were not afraid to put their hands to the plow themselves.
After a leisurely conversation in Harvey’s office, it was time to walk back across the road to check on the car. Once Dad had left, Harvey, without pause, picked up the phone and called the mechanic shop. “Pay the preacher’s bill in full,” he told the office manager. Mr. Harvey became a family friend who could see the need for a tow before it occurred. We cherished him until the day he went home to be with the Lord.
Arriving at the library with the girls ready to go inside, a misty rain started, the kind of rain that leaves just enough to wet the top layer of your hair and face. Adding to the rain, the wind picked up, which made for a yucky setup with two young kids. I exited the car with my umbrella to keep myself and Charlotte dry. Grabbing Charlotte from the backseat, I settled her on my hip and slung my purse and umbrella on the other arm. Immediately the wind ripped my umbrella backward so that it was turned inside out, and the rain began to soak my face and Charlotte. She slipped down my side, leaving my grip around her arm and neck. Trying to reposition everything while walking around Eva’s side of the door brought comic relief to all bystanders. Eva was beside herself laughing in the backseat, and our friends who had just pulled up smiled at the scene unfolding. Quickly the oldest daughter jumped out of the car and asked if she could help me, never thinking about the rain herself. I gladly accepted her assistance because sometimes all you need is a tow.
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