Three short stories, all taking place recently and involving wheels, but linked even more so by kindness.
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My writing desk in an upstairs loft overlooks an orchard and a well-traveled road. Every now and then I look up from my laptop and enjoy the view, and so it was the other morning I saw an SUV pull over and stop on the dirt shoulder abruptly enough to raise a small dust storm.
With the hazard taillights blinking, a woman driver got out and walked to the passenger side where she stood with phone in hand to her ear.
A short moment later, far too quickly for the person she had called to already arrive, a car so clean it could have just come from a car wash – and certainly would now need a rinse – stopped on the side of the road directly behind the SUV.
A male driver, seemingly middle-aged like the woman, got out and talked with her. From afar, they did not seem to know each other, much less be a husband coming to his wife’s aid.
He was, I believe, simply a Good Samaritan who had stopped, and stayed until a tow truck arrived, then left without a quick kiss or hug goodbye one would expect from a couple.
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A second tale, also involving four wheels, this time on a grocery cart.
Instead of a clichéd lone wobbly wheel, it was a lonely gentleman pushing the cart who seemed a little unsteady. This was certainly to be expected because, judging from his “World War II Air Force” ball cap, he was well into his 90s.
As I walked toward the store’s entrance, I watched across the way as the veteran returned his cart, quite far, to the return rack, a slow walk that seemed to take great effort.
It is said that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who return their carts and those who don’t. When I exited the grocery, I learned there is a third category: a rare person who returns multiple stray carts, for the WWII vet was now bringing back a cart back from a different area of the parking lot.
While I had only bought a single bag’s worth of groceries, and thus had no cart to return, I was now inspired to retrieve what appeared to be (for now) the last orphaned cart.
When I crossed paths with the nonagenarian, he offered me a handshake and said, “You’re a good man.” Surveying the parking lot, he added: “It looks much better. I think I’ll go home now.”
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A third scene, this time featuring a two-wheeler.
The bicycle was of the e-bike variety that are, too often, ridden too fast and too carelessly. Kid e-cyclists, especially, seem to make drivers hit their brakes and pedestrians jump from harm’s way.
And yet the other day I saw a gang of teen e-bikers riding around at a local park, safely and sanely, laughing contagiously and bothering no one.
The best part, however, was when one of the kids peeled away from his friends and raced across a soccer field; jumped off his e-bike almost before it had come to a compete skidding stop; looked both ways for traffic; then ran into the street to retrieve an errant soccer ball before a car flattened it.
The teen boy hopped back on his e-bike, fully inflated rescued soccer ball under one arm, and delivered it to a youth player on the field.
I am certain the WWII vet would have given him a handshake.
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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn
Woody’s new novel “The Butterfly Tree” is now available in paperback and eBook at Amazon (click here), other online bookstores, and is orderable at all bookshops.
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Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn.
It remains one of the most iconic American photographs of the 20th century, of World War II specifically, a single image telling a thousand joyous words.
Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at 