The Bolt

Wednesday was a day off of work for me. We were planning on going camping the following weekend, so I decided to head up to the lake that day and secure a spot, since it was going to be a long weekend and there were four couples needing a campsite. We learned the hard way last year that campsites can be very scarce on long weekends, and for those campgrounds that don't take reservations you need to get there plenty early.

The drive from Saskatoon to the campground was fairly uneventful... just over 2.5 hours of surfing between radio stations, unsuccessfully trying to find one that didn't suck. I think Rawlco communications has its head up its ass -- I know what good radio can be like, I used to live in Vancouver! (I'm sure that didn't sound arrogant at all) I am now understanding this movement towards satellite radio, as much as I am against it. Oh well, enough ranting.

After setting up the camper and also securing the three other sites by plunking down tents and paying the fees, I set off to return right back home. About 15 minutes into my return trip I saw a car on the side of the road ahead of me, facing the opposite direction. Although there was already a semi-trailer pulled over on the same side of the road that I was on and the truck driver was getting out to assist, I pulled over as well.

The truck driver and I looked under the hood of "Danny's" car and thought it needed a boost, since the starter wasn't turning over fast enough. I brought my van around, we hooked up the booster cables... and nothing. Still wouldn't start. The truck driver and I talked about possible problems, and we still thought it sounded like an electrical problem. We looked again around the battery and discovered that the main supply line from the battery positive terminal was badly corroded and barely connected. We fixed it up as best we could, and Danny was then able to start the car and drive away.

I waved goodbye to both of them and then got back into my van and headed back home. Although I had a nice, warm feeling inside about stopping to assist a troubled motorist, I also had a strange feeling that I would be helping someone else that day. I'm not kidding! I'm not a huge psychic or paranormal believer, but the feeling was so strong that I actually would have been surprised if I wasn't able to help anyone else.

It turns out that I didn't have to wait long. 30 minutes later, just as I got into Prince Albert and was about to turn into the Tim Horton's for coffee, I saw a girl on a bike run into a car. No, she wasn't struck by the car, she RAN INTO the car. Very strange.

I pulled into Tim Horton's and she was there in the parking lot with her bike. The front tire on her bike was very bent and the bike was no longer rideable. She still looked to be stunned or disoriented, so I rolled down my window and asked if she was OK. She replied that she was. I was pretty sure that she would have been in a state of at least mild shock, so I told her to put the bike into the back of my van and I volunteered to give her a ride to wherever she was going. After little arguement she agreed. Her name was "Carolina" (pronounced like 'car-oh-lean-ah')

I gave her a ride over to a muffler shop, where she was to pick up some parts, and then I dropped her back off to where she worked. As she thanked me for helping her, she said, "well I guess you have done your good duty for the day."

"Actually, this is my second," I replied with a wry smile, "I also helped someone who had car troubles earlier."

"Really? Wow. Busy day for you!"

I didn't bother telling her that I knew I'd be helping two people today - she likely didn't care, and certainly didn't need to think that I was crazy. I drove away with a bigger warm and fuzzy feeling, and this time I didn't have any more premonitions. True enough, I arrived at home without any further incident.

You are what you pretend to be. That day, I was a friend to two strangers.