Monday, August 11, 2008
I have a very predictable morning routine. On Thursday everything was as usual; I went to mass at 9 am and said my usual prayer to St Joseph asking him to look after me as he did for his wife Mary. By 10 am I was on the road heading back to San Jose after spending a few days at my parents house. For the whole trip home down busy, 8 lane highway 280, the battery light was on very faintly, so faintly that when I was wearing sunglasses I couldn't see it. Other than that, the trip was uneventful.
Finally I arrived in San Jose and on Camden my car died. Not just stalled, it died completely- even the hazard lights wouldn't work. And it was stuck in park so I couldn't even put it into neutral (much to the irritation of the kindly, tattooed homeless man who offered to push my car to the side of the road; when I told him it was impossible, he went back to the intersection and, with much gesticulation and flailing of arms had a very heated exchange with his shopping cart, presumably about bad women drivers.)
The tow truck came and loaded my poor, dirty little pro- life car onto its back and carried her gently off to the repair shop. In the car on the way over the driver said that was a horrible spot to stall. But I knew there was a much worse place, highway 280 where I had been less than an hour previously. There I would've been stuck inside the car (instead of being able to escape and wait on the side of the road) in danger of being rear- ended by another car going 70 miles an hour.
Thank you, Saint Joseph. You're my hero.