random acts of kindness

Sitting in line outside DC’s Half Street inspection station, broken air conditioner, 95 degrees, dead in irons on the River Styx. Worse yet, gas is on empty. So I pull out to find a gas station, stopping at the corner to ask for directions. Down-on-luck local advises that they were all torn down to make way for the Nationals’ stadium. So I proceed south, and south, and stubbornly farther south. Fifteen minutes later “Distance to Empty” reads “O” as I pull up to the visitor’s entrance at a large air force base. No way am I allowed on the base to go to their gas station, said the young officer. But look at my gauge. Peers inside. Reflects. Ok, I could get in a lot of trouble, but give me some ID, and be off base in 15 minutes. Yes ma’am I say, pulling forward, carefully eyeing the dashboard clock.