A Chance Meeting

(4-minute read) – A little old Toyota pulled jerkily into the non-space between two parking spaces. Its faded paint didn’t gleam in the sun like it had the day it rolled off the Toyota production line.

Only one brake light lit up as it came to a halt too far from the curb. The rattle of pre-ignition and a last puff of blue smoke from its puny exhaust signalled its misfiring engine with its worn piston rings had stopped.

That old car looked like it didn’t belong in this world anymore, just like it had no business taking up two parking spaces.

The driver’s door squeaked slowly open. After a few laboured moments, a stocking-clad leg swung leadenly out onto the tarmac. Then another. An old white lady attached to the legs followed. She painstakingly pulled herself out of the Toyota’s seat. Musky warm air rolled out over the top lip of the door frame, as fresh cool air slid in over the floor pan.

Then she was upright and the closing door interrupted musky and fresh air currents. She turned careful so as not to damage her hip again and walked slowly toward the tyre fitment shop. Today she was going to buy her trusty old Toyota some new shoes.

Behind the counter of the tyre fitment shop, stood an old black gentleman. His back ached from standing there, but he would not complain to his young boss. He couldn’t afford to complain. He knew he was lucky to have a job at his age in that economic climate, and without it he would be on the street. So he took whatever insensitivities his boss dished out, and stood resolutely.

The old black man saw the Toyota arrive and take up two places. He watched as the old white lady made her way gingerly to the shop. There were many customers that came through that place with their shiny new cars and their fat wallets buying mag wheels and low profile tyres. This old lady was an unusual visitor. For the first time in a long while, the old man actually wanted to help the person walking toward his counter.

“Hello Ma’am, how may I help you,” he said, as she approached and made eye-contact with him.

“Uh, hello. I believe I need new tyres for the Toyota outside there.”

He looked at her and he saw himself. The wrinkly skin around her eyes pointed inward to slightly hazy pupils behind unfashionable spectacles. The old vessel was no longer shiny like the day it rolled off the production line. But the old man could see the spirit of the woman in her eyes. She had years of wisdom built up behind that haze. He could see it because he had the same wise spirit in his old body.

The old man’s young boss couldn’t see anything like it as he wondered which one of them was older. He was amused by them – and relieved he didn’t have to deal with the old lady and her ugly little car.

“Let’s have a look,” said the old man as he walked around the counter. She swivelled gently again on that gammy hip. As he drew alongside her, he put out his arm and she instinctively took hold of it – the contact was a tonic. They hobbled out the shop and across the tarmac to the car together to the amusement of the insolent young boss.

There was so much respect between them. They could both feel it. They had both lived long lives and they instinctively knew their common humanity was connected without any effort as they walked slowly back to inspect the tyres on that old car.

Although they’d grown up in a racially divided society, there was absolutely no division between them that day. By the time she left, they had sunk into each other with child-like innocence and openness. A profound meeting of two human souls had occurred. Not wrinkly skin, black or white, nor a gammy hip or an aching back, could stop their souls from souring away together.

As the little old Toyota pulled jerkily out of the non-space between two parking spaces, the old man’s eyes welled up with tears. He wished he could have fitted new tyres for her. But he couldn’t help her. The old lady couldn’t even afford one. It had been ten years since she’d needed new tyres, and back then it had been her late husband who had seen to it. So, she had no idea what tyres cost.

He was glad he’d had a chance meeting with her. But he was sad because he knew he’d never see her again. He’d never be able to follow through on that rare connection they’d experienced. What would be the point? They were better off savouring the moment and then letting go, for he knew neither of them would be around in their old bodies much longer. Somehow, at their wise old ages, that brief love tasted and not held was the best love they’d ever known.

It rained the next day. The old man was behind his counter staring aimlessly at the exit sign above the door, thinking of the old lady.

At that moment, the bald tyres on the trusty Toyota lost traction somewhere nearby in the rain and the car skidded off the road into a ditch. A broken telephone pole impaled the old lady.

The exit sign disappeared from the old man’s blurry vision as he collapsed to the floor behind his counter. The instant that the broken telephone pole impaled her, was the same instant his heart pulsed for the last time.

In a ditch nearby, the rattle of pre-ignition and a last puff of blue smoke from the Toyota’s puny exhaust signalled its misfiring engine with its worn piston rings had stopped… for the last time. And two old souls soured away together… for good this time.

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