I’m Mark, and I never expected to be stranded in a storm, begging for a ride, but life tests you. My wife, Jenna, was in labor, and I was 30 miles away at a sales meeting when the hospital called. We’d prepped for our son, painting his nursery green and folding tiny sailboat onesies. “Don’t stray far,” Jenna said that morning from her hospital bed. “It’s a quick trip,” I assured her, thinking we had a week.
At 3:00 p.m., Nurse Claire called. “Jenna’s in labor—get here fast.” I grabbed my coat, heart pounding. My car was in the garage, so I’d taken a cab. Rain flooded the streets, and no cars stopped. A red pickup finally pulled over. “Thank you!” I said, climbing in. “Grace Hospital—my wife’s having a baby.” The driver, a rugged man in his 40s, frowned. “That’s far, rain’s bad.” I pleaded, “She’s in labor!” He demanded, “Two-fifty.” I paid instantly.
Traffic crawled, my calls to Jenna unanswered. The hospital said labor was speeding up. I shed my wet jacket, revealing my Grace Gators shirt—Jenna’s gift. The driver glared in the mirror. “Gators fan?” He stopped abruptly. “Out!” I was stunned. “My wife’s giving birth!” His Millfield Mavericks flag hung by the mirror. “My uncle died in a riot after the ’96 game. No Gators fans.” I begged, but he roared, “Out!” I stepped into the rain, his truck vanishing, leaving me shattered.
I walked, soaked, taxis ignoring me. Then I heard tires screech. His truck was stopped, the driver seizing, slumped over. I ran, helping him, turning him on his side until it stopped. He was out, keys ready. I could’ve driven to Jenna, but I drove to Millfield ER. Staff rushed him in, and a doctor, hearing my plight, gave me his keys. “Black Ford, lot 15. Go.” I reached Jenna at 7:15 p.m., her smile easing my fear. Our son arrived at 8:10 p.m., perfect and loud.
I told Jenna later, and she marveled, “You helped him?” I checked on the driver, Tony, who was awake. “You saved me,” he said, regretful. “My uncle wouldn’t have wanted this hate.” I smiled. “We had a boy.” Tony brought a Gators onesie later, apologizing over coffee. Karma’s a teacher, showing up right on time. Our son, Liam, loves that onesie, and I learned kindness is a choice that shapes who you become.
