It’s springtime in the Garden City, when shoots spring forth and songbirds sing in hopeful notes. Sometimes we humans catch the spirit, too.
Not long ago, it touched my car and me. I should mention, to begin, that I’m talking about a Chrysler Intrepid I bought brand new in 1994. These days I don’t drive much, but I do love driving it, and it has the best lines ever.
One day I noticed a hubcap was missing. It must have fallen off, making the wheel an eyesore. I had no time to spend on it, so I made do. Weeks later, to my surprise, I happened on the missing hubcap, propped against a roadside tree.
The bonus to getting it back was the thoughtfulness. Someone had spotted it and placed it where its owner might see it, and no one had kicked it around or taken it. As an old song says, “Little things mean a lot.”
Reflecting about it brings back another Garden City spring. Seventeen years ago, very early on Victoria Day, I’d dropped off a daughter for an air cadets flight.
As I turned sharply right from Sea Island Way onto No. 3 Road, the car began sinking at the right front wheel. I coasted on the deserted street to a parking area, where the wheel collapsed.
I stared at the damaged body and fallen wheel and felt quite lucky. It could have happened with the car full of kids. What if we’d been changing lanes in speedy traffic?
Lost in thought, I hardly noticed a guy in his 30s who’d pulled in. “Need some help?” he asked. (Yes!)
His name was Goran. He jacked up my car and spotted where a bolt was missing, and he did a makeshift fix. Then I drove with care behind him to his home so he could look up the bolt name.
Goran made coffee for us in the kitchen and went to speak with his resting wife. He came back with a manual, ready to discuss the car problem.
The week before, a dealer doing warranty work had failed to put the bolt back in, and it was needed for sharp turns.
Goran, I learned, had been an auto mechanic in the former Yugoslavia. He was returning from a night shift at a factory when he spotted my predicament.
After driving the short distance home, I got the car towed to the dealer.
A service person tried to evade being responsible, but my info from Goran won out. That saved thousands of dollars. (And I later got better service by switching to Richmond Chrysler.)
I sent Goran an appreciative letter with an update and an offer to be a reference for him, but I never heard from him again. Still, every Victoria Day I remember Goran and give thanks for his good deed.
In that way — and now in this column — it keeps on giving.
Happy spring, Garden City!
Jim Wright is president of the Garden City Conservation Society.
