Dear kind stranger, clad in the shining blue polo and cargo pants,
It was 100 percent my fault.
The day was gorgeous, the temperature less than sweltering, and a fine ride on my mower to keep my non-existent HOA at bay felt like the right way to spend the afternoon. Cranking my zero-turn John Deere at around 1 p.m. Saturday, I started what should have been a routine 90-minute tour of the front lawn, alone with my podcasts and the smell of shredded grass.
It was in the first 10 minutes I got cocky: my ditch had overgrown, and I was determined not to borrow a push mower this time. I had watched a professional landscaper just last week navigate a ditch with a much sharper angle than mine, and like all of us amateurs, my hubris took hold.
And, as you can guess by now, I found myself half sunk in soft mud with the front deck pointed upward at 45 degrees and the engine partially buried in the dirt behind me.
The motor never stopped, despite my airborne back tires spinning as I tried to reverse out of my stupidity and arrogance.
And then you showed up.
To be fair to the neighbors, no one driving by could tell of my peril. Not even my beautiful bride, who ran into town for some baby goat yoga (or something like that I guess) and drove down the driveway waving happily to me. Refusing to besmirch my own yard-care honor, I just waved back with a smile, muttering to myself how stupid I was for my predicament.
All seemed lost, and my lawnmower was headed toward an afternoon sunbathing — an altar to my overconfidence in my ditch-mowing skills.
But you approached from the north. As I tried to literally lift a 600-pound mower by myself, you stopped the Amazon van and rolled down the window.
“You need help?” you asked.
In a split second, I thought through whether to lie and let you move along, knowing there’s a chance that stories about your difficult job could still be true in 2025. But as desperation met reality, I knew that accepting your help was my best chance to stave humiliation and finish the mow.
It could not have been more than three minutes, but we lifted the mower out together and put the wheels back on solid ground. And, just as mysteriously as you had appeared, you vanished to deliver more brown boxes to all the lucky buyers on your route.
It’s rare we see people in peril while we’re leisuring away the day. Rather, it’s the moments we’re in the middle of our busy lives that someone has a flat tire, a car that won’t crank, or a cart of groceries that need to be loaded in the heat of the day. It’s those moments where we see the kindness of strangers and remember there is good in the world, despite what social media groups and posts will tell you.
And an hour later and my lawn mowed, I realized that I didn’t catch your name or your driver number to leave overwhelmingly positive feedback with Mr. Bezos. So, if you’re reading this, I offer a hearty thanks.
Not just for pulling me out of a literal ditch, but for reminding me how important it is to just stop and say three powerful words:
“You need help?”
