A human moment

Sometimes, the "little things in life" take on a larger importance than we think as we go about our hurried lives...


Yesterday, I was in the middle of my usual Sunday routine; brunch at my favorite hangout in Scottsdale, then off to my brother's Taj Mahal-like pool to watch the Giants/Diamondbacks game with a few beers. (Yes, there's a television outside. Talk about decadence.)


Needing fuel for the Batmobile and for me (beer), I stopped at a Circle K to gas up. As I was putting gas into my RAV4, I noticed a late model Murano inching back and forth at a nearby gas pump. The lady behind the wheel got out and attempted to place the nozzle in her tank, with little success. She was an elderly woman, maybe mid 70s, not infirm, but clearly not used to self-service fuel.

I went over to the woman, and asked if I could help. She accepted, and I advised her to move her car closer to the pump so that we could get the nozzle in. After a few attempts, she jockeyed the car close enough so that I could reach the tank. I thought she'd be fine after that, and moved back to the RAV to finish my fueling.

Out of the corner of my eye, though, I saw that the lady was still having trouble, pushing her credit card in and out of the payment slot. I returned to her, and discovered that she was using her driver's license to pay for her gas. Little thought in the back of my cynical brain: What the hell is this woman doing driving? I told her that she needed a credit or debit card to pay for the gas, or pay inside the store. After a couple of minutes fumbling in her purse, she produced a VISA card.

I took over at this point, showed her how the system worked, and decided to stay with her until the fueling was complete. As we waited, (the damned thing was almost empty, based on my knowledge of a Murano's fuel capacity), she explained to me that she was new to all this--her husband, who is ill, always filled up their vehicles. She had been on the west side of Phoenix feeding her son's dog (son was out of town on business) and realized that she was running on empty.

I found myself taken with this woman--maybe as my mom died a few years back, it was nice to help someone out who needed it--and God knows I did enough of that for Mom when she was declining. I brought up the "old days", when a gas station was truly a "service station", and guys would come out and fill your tank, check the oil, and wipe the windshield. In my 50s, I remember that stuff as a little kid. She shared a few personal things which I won't repeat here, but as we conversed, I knew that she was okay...just needed a little education in the America of 2010.

Fueling complete, I showed her how to get a receipt and had her replace the nozzle and replace the gas cap, with a friendly bit of advice that she might try it a few times for practice. In the back of my mind was the thought that she might find herself on her own soon (as my mother had in 2002, though far more independent than this lady) and it wouldn't be a bad idea to know how to gas up your car.

She thanked me profusely-not cloying, but genuinely grateful for my help. I bade her goodbye and went into the store for the beer and an iced tea refill for my Big Gulp....

Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. But driving to my brother's home, I felt a strange feeling of peace. I was a Boy Scout a long time ago, and remember that "good deed" stuff. I was brought up with the sense that people help each other out when they need it. Over the years, it's been my observation that we've become a little too "Me-centric" rather than a community--in our relationships, our communities, and in our nation. The Internet, email, texting, and all the modern conveniences haven't helped us really relate to each other, either.

No point here. I never offered my name, nor she hers. It was just a nice, human moment, with a good, warm feeling afterward. We can make a difference in many ways, large and small, like this one. As I floated in the pool, drinking a Miller Lite and watching the national pastime, I reflected on it. A good day, all in all.