I was at a Georgia Writers Museum event a few nights ago, but that’s not what this story is about. It’s not about the yellow Ferrari, either, although that’s what started it all. What it’s really about is the people – small-town families, big-city couples, people of different ages, stages, and stations in life. And it’s about, as Blanche DuBois famously stated in A Streetcar Named Desire, “the kindness of strangers.”

The Writers Museum event had ended, and almost everyone had left, when a couple who had attended the program walked back into the Museum. They were the owners of the Ferrari, and their car wouldn’t start. They had called AAA, and were told that someone could come out and tow their car to the nearest Ferrari dealer. As you might guess, however, there are no Ferrari dealers in Eatonton, Georgia. The nearest one was almost a hundred miles away, in Atlanta. That’s when the couple went back into the Museum.

One of the Board members who was still there ran out to get the heavy-duty jumper cables she always has in her car. But there was a problem: the battery in a Ferrari isn’t in the same place it is in American cars. And the owner had never had a problem with the car – or its battery – before. While they were busy trying to find the battery, a guy in a pickup truck drove by, then did a U-turn and came back, asking if he could help. He, however, wasn’t familiar with Ferrari batteries either. Nor was his young son, who was with him. Another driver soon arrived, and offered his help as well.

Eventually they located and jumped the battery, and all was well. The owners were relieved, and in addition to thanking everyone, the wife apologized for keeping them out so late, especially the young boy. But the father noted that this was a teachable moment.

“I like to think I’m being a good role model for him,” he said. He also gave the couple his phone number and told them to call him if they had any more car trouble, even if it was four o’clock in the morning. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I thought you might be stranded somewhere.”

By now everyone, including the young son, was staring at the car. “Would you like to sit in it?” the owner asked. Everyone did, kids and dads alike. They took turns sitting behind the wheel of that yellow Ferrari, taking photos of thumbs up and high fives.

I learned this whole story the next day, when I was at the Museum for a meeting, and the couple from Atlanta – who had stayed in the area overnight instead of driving home right after the program – had come in to learn more about the Museum. They’ve enjoyed the several GWM events they’ve attended, and want to become more involved in the Museum’s activities.

I hope they do. I know I’ll smile every time I see the yellow Ferrari parked out front. I’ll be thinking about the night their battery died, the unlikely group of people it brought together, and – most of all – the kindness of strangers.

October 7, 2023
©Betty Liedtke, 2023

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