G. Wilkins,
Lakewood, CO
At 5’2” I was a petite young White female who adored road trips, had driven mostly alone through all of the 50 United States. Oh yes, I’ve had many adventures. Many people helped me along the way when I had car trouble.
In my 40’s, (around 1985) I made a road trip into the “Great American South”. I can’t remember why but this trip my goal was up the East Coast. I dropped a friend somewhere in Louisiana and kept going along the Gulf of Mexico, turning north onto I-95 when I met the Atlantic Ocean. My immediate destination became Washington DC. Heading north into South Carolina, I recall foot thick trees snapped by a recent hurricane which might help date this event.
Though I kept a cooler in the passenger-seat footwell, I took an exit to try to find a better lunch. There had been recent heavy rain. The slick exit ramp curved, hiding everything but the trees lining it. Suddenly I came across a car flipped entirely on its roof and a man about my age standing just looking at it. I stopped, and asked him, “Are you okay?” He gave me a dazed look. “Is that your car? Is anyone else in it?” I asked. “I need to get to a phone” he replied. (This was before the days of cell phones.) “Are you hurt? Is anyone else?” No answer. “Get in,” I said. “We’ll find a phone.” I told him to put the cooler in the backseat. He started to climb into the backseat. I said, “No, put the cooler in the backseat and ride up front with me.” He did and gave me directions to a small strip mall not far off the highway exit. He asked to be dropped off there. I did, but was still anxious about leaving him, concerned he might have had head trauma,. “Are you going to be able to contact someone?” He assured me he would. I reluctantly left him behind and continued my search for lunch. My trip home to Colorado was uneventful. But I still wonder if I shouldn’t have left him alone until his friend showed up. Why? He was Black. Ho hum. That shouldn’t make a difference should it?
