The car in the driveway

One night last week as I was turning off the lights and preparing for bed, I looked out and saw an unknown car parked in the driveway. Under the light of the street lamp, the large van with racks on the roof looked grey. It was so long the driver had it partially overlapping the sidewalk off the small apron.

My building has three apartments and a three car garage. This visitor was parked behind my spot, blocking my exit. Of course, at 10pm on a Sunday night, I wasn't going anywhere, but I got a little concerned about the morning. After texting my neighbors, I learned that one of them had also seen it and thought I had a guest; otherwise they knew nothing. I resumed getting ready for the next day.

Then I heard a car being started. Well, at least the driver was attempting to start the car but it wouldn't turn over. It sounded to me like gears were grinding. I looked out again and could tell that the sounds were coming from the mystery car in the driveway. I stood and watched and listened for 8 minutes while they continued to try to start the car. "Stupid!" I thought. "They're flooding the engine. Now they’re going to have to get someone to jump start it or call for a tow." 

They finally stopped, but no one got out of the car. I texted the landlord to report the mystery car in the driveway and went to bed, but I had a hard time falling asleep. I felt guilty. That morning's sermon had been about the Good Samaritan. Did I go out to say, "Stop trying!"? Did I offer to call someone? Did I make sure that fumes hadn't gotten into the car and made the driver sick? No, I took the safe route with the excuses that I was in my pajamas, it was late, I'm a woman and it was probably a man in the van. I'm ashamed to say that another consideration was that not only was it probably a man, but, given my neighborhood, also a person of color.

I choose to live in this neighborhood for the very reason it is diverse, but when push came to shove at 10pm on a Sunday night, I froze. Call it wise. Call it prudent. I don't necessarily call it cowardly, but more of a murky area, and I'm obviously still mulling over it. There has been no history of anything to fear here, but my reticence won over a helping hand. Perhaps now you'll mull with me. We could even have a conversation.

In the morning the car was gone.

Marilyn