Mornings have always tended to get the jump on me, and this particular day was no different. I used to take pride in the fact that I could leap out of bed, splash around in the shower, brush my teeth and hair, throw on clothes, and race to the car in twelve minutes flat. On my more hungry mornings, I’d even prepare a bowl of cereal – yes, with milk – that I could snarf down while driving.
I wasn’t eating my Wheaties on this particular morning, as I needed to get to school in a super hurry. So as I'm driving down the road, and less than three blocks from home, a bird flies out in front of my car. I hear the “bonk” of the bird hitting my windshield, and when I look in the rear-view mirror, I see it's been stunned, hopelessly flapping in the middle of the road, its right wing clearly broken. The thought flashes through my head: I should turn around and stop. But stop and do what? This was just a small bird after all, not someone’s pet.
Another two blocks, and I’m stopped at a red light, preparing to turn left, to leave the bird forever flapping. To my surprise, someone driving in the opposite direction saw the incident, and pulled over to help the bird. The person stared at me as I drove out of view. And although I might have imagined this part, I'm pretty sure the person was shaking his head in disgust at me, flipping me the bird.
When do you decide to stop to help, and when do you decide to keep on driving?
"Hell is paved with good samaritans." -- William M. Holden