I spotted the white sedan on the side of Route 42 at 11 p.m., its hazard lights flashing dimly in the darkness.
At first, I planned to continue on my way: it was late, I was tired, and I still had about sixty kilometers to go to get home. But as I passed her, I saw her in my headlight.
A teenage girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, was crouching near the rear wheel, an iron bar in her hand. She was crying. And she kept looking over her shoulder, towards the dark woods behind her, as if something was approaching.
I've been riding motorcycles for thirty-eight years. I'm sixty-three years old, a retired firefighter, and I've seen enough frightened people to recognize pure terror. This young woman wasn't simply annoyed by a flat tire. She was absolutely terrified.
I turned around and parked on the shoulder, about six meters behind her car. As soon as my headlight shone on her, she jumped up and brandished the iron bar like a weapon. "Back up!" she yelled. "I've got pepper spray!"
I turned off the engine and raised my hands. "Easy, honey. I'm just here to help you with your tire. I'm not going to hurt you."
She didn't lower the wrench. "I don't need help. It's fine. Leave me alone."
But it wasn't right. She was trembling so much I could see it from six meters away. Her voice was broken when she spoke. And she kept glancing at her chest.
“Listen,” I said softly, keeping my hands clearly visible. “I’m a firefighter. Retired. I have a daughter about your age. I’m not going to leave a child alone on a dark road at midnight. So, either you let me change your tire, or I’ll call the police. It’s up to you.”
At the mention of the police, she turned livid. "No! Not the police. Please."
That's when I realized something was seriously wrong. "Okay," I said cautiously. "No police. But I'm not leaving you here alone either. So, let's change this tire and get you to safety. Okay?"
She hesitated, still holding the wrench. Then she looked at my vest: the American flag patch, the firefighters' badge, the veteran's insignia. Her face changed. "You're really a firefighter?"
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