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Help is just a phone call away

I was heading down the interstate the other day, rocking it out the hardcore way I usually do, listening to a podcast.

Then, right in front of me, I saw a flash of red. I saw an SUV careening off to the left. I have driven on plenty of interstates, and I have found that we generally like to keep going in the same direction (forward), and that hard lefts are generally discouraged.

As smoke and debris began to fill the air, I saw the car go plummeting off the left side, down about a five-foot embankment. Pretty sure that wasn’t an exit ramp.

I pulled off onto the right side of the road in the emergency lane. I grabbed my phone and hit the shortcut number to South Carolina highway patrol. (BTW, it’s *HP. Learn it. Know it. Live it.)

I exited my car and saw several cars had pulled over on the left side, where the wreck had just happened. A guy who had stopped on the other side of the road yelled something at me. Because cars were traveling by at 70+ mph, I couldn’t hear him. A break in traffic came. “CALL THE POLICE!!!” he yelled. “I’M ON IT!!!” I yelled back, just as the dispatcher answered.

The team was forming.

I informed the dispatcher a wreck had just happened and told her where we were. She asked how many people were in the car and if they were injured. Another motorist who had stopped emerged to the top of the road. It’s like he was on the call with us. “TWO IN THE CAR!” he said holding up two fingers. “THEY”RE AWAKE!” he shouted to me. Teamwork, baby!

I relayed the information. She told me police and EMS were on the way. Because the traffic was so busy, I was kinda stuck on the other side of the interstate.

About that time, a man came running up to me on the shoulder. He had been driving a tractor trailer and the red car had smacked into him, which sent them off the road. He was visibly upset, and trying to cross the road. I told him it wasn’t safe, and asked if he was OK. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “ARE THEY OK!?!?!?” I told him they were awake and EMS was on the way. When a break in traffic happened, he sprinted across the interstate to check on them. Another member of the team.IMG_8100 (1)

I looked over at my teammates. There were four total. It was mid-morning, but already scorching hot. I had a bunch of bottled waters in my car from a recent outing. I went and retrieved them. One of my teammates saw me coming to the side of the road and help up a hand high in the air. The international sign for, “Throw it!” When there was a break in traffic, I pitched six water bottles his way, and he caught five of them. One MAY have gone a little high and hit the wrecked car, but let’s be honest, a water bottle ding was the least of their worries. I opted to stay on my side of the interstate and head back about a hundred yards past my car to try and slow down motorists. There I was, in a tie, standing on the side of an interstate waving my hands up and down as if I was doing the Wayne’s World “We’re not worthy” wave to traffic, trying to mouth “SLOW DOWN” as clearly as possible.

Most of the motorists slowed down, and several gave me a thumbs up as they drove past. Two people who came through when traffic was a bit lighter slowed and asked if we needed help.

The police arrived a short while later, and as traffic was blocked I made my way across the interstate. The folks in the car seemed to be OK, but obviously rather shaken. The officer asked me what I saw, and I told her. She said I was good to go. My teammates were all standing there. I said, “Well, I’m off to Columbia. Nice work, everybody!” We stood there awkwardly for a second. One guy extended a hand. “Nice working with you, man!” he said with a big smile. Another handshake. Another. Another. The driver of the truck, gave me a strong handshake and told me thanks. I said, “Nah, man, thank you. Safe travels, friend.”

And off I went.

Now, I tell you this story not as a humble brag. I’m not looking for kudos for pulling off the road and helping a fellow motorist. For one thing, it’s hardly heroic to make a phone call to the folks who come out and do the actual heroic things.

Anyone who knows me knows I live for that kind of stuff. I’ve been behind plenty of cars pushing them out of the roadway. I do it because I believe in helping my fellow man. And the reason I decided to make this week’s column about it is that I was so happy to see our team come together. We are, for the most part, and certainly in a crisis, a good people. On that day, a group of strangers came together and helped someone who none of us knew. We formed a team, and we did what we needed to do to get them through a far worse day any of us were having. And, dear readers, that’s what I like about you. I think any of you could have been on that team. Because at the end of the day, it’s pretty easy just to make a phone call when it can help someone out.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Charleston. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

Categories
Uncategorized

Sensible legislation

As anyone who reads this column knows, I am exceptionally political and use this platform to further my political agenda at any time.

Ha! I kid. I would no sooner wade into politics here than I would religion, because I’ve visited the internet and I’ve seen how that goes.

That said, with a presidential election now a merciful few months away, I do think it’s time all Americans get behind a few common sense political mandates that should be accepted come election day. I know we are electing a ton of candidates, including, I’m told, president. But I’d like to call for an up/down vote on my suggestions of a few common sense legislation ideas that I think we can all agree will pass 100 percent-0:

  • When new construction begins on a site, a sign should have to be placed telling you a little more information than who the contractor is and what bank is financing it. They don’t have to totally spoil it for those driving by. Just a simple sign with either the number 1, 2 or 3. Number 1: Boring project you won’t care about, so quit wondering about it when you drive by. (Examples: Apartments; office space that will probably be mainly accountants and dentists; municipal offices you will never need to go to.) Number 2: It MAY interest you, but only start caring about it as it gets closer to completion. (Examples: Car dealership; office space that could be something cool, but we have yet to find tenants; veterinarian that specializes in big cats and exotic reptiles.) Number 3: Stay tuned, America! You’re gonna wanna see this! (Examples: Dave and Buster’s; brewery/archery range; veterinarian that specializes in big cats VS. exotic reptiles in the Euthanasia Dome.)
  • When a traffic light goes out, if you are unable to comprehend that it becomes a four-way stop at that point and just blast on through the intersection as if you have an extra big green light, you lose your license for a month. If you do it while a police officer is standing there in the rain directing traffic, you lose it for 40 years.
  • If you bring more than the stated allowed number of items to the self-checkout line, you are immediately placed behind the mom who is shopping for the month’s groceries, with her six kids in tow. For every produce item that has to be weighed and have its special number entered into the system, you have to let one grocer with at least a half-full cart go ahead of you.
  • If you stop and help a stranded motorist successfully and safely, you can claim that event as a child and deduct it from your taxes. Caveat: If you do it unsafely just for the tax credit, you have to give one of your kids away.
  • If your and your spouse are at a restaurant and your child starts crying, and you get up and take the child out of the restaurant, you get a free appetizer or dessert. Your choice. By my estimate, my wife and I would have scored about 43 billion appetizers/desserts over the last 16 years.
  • If you are caught stealing someone’s sandals from the beach, you are immediately sentenced to 800 hours of community service. That service? Attempting to resuscitate washed up horseshoe crabs and jellyfish. Enjoy finding the other mouth on that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, you sandal thief.
  • If I Google “Insert Team Here vs. Insert Team There highlights” and the resulting video clip is a couple of dudes talking about the clip but never actually showing it, those dudes have to come to my house with a DVD of the clip and show it to me personally. In silence.

I think we can all agree these are simple measures that will make our country bigger, faster, stronger. Vote Yes! for this on election day. And if it’s not on your ballot, cry foul to your polling folks. Because this is what America is about. Having a voice. And getting excited about watching a tiger fight a Komodo dragon.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Charleston. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

Categories
Adventures Childhood Family

They see me rollerin’

I am a survivor.

Six hours in a car. Ten hours at an amusement park. Four teenage girls.

Survive.

OK, so it wasn’t that bad. It was my daughter’s 16 birthday, and she wanted to go and ride roller coasters with some friends. So I piled the four of them in a car and set off toward our destination, three hours away, which means I spent the next three hours hearing songs from “Hamilton” being sung, occasionally breaking for a quick trip to “School of Rock” songs.

When we arrived at our destination, the energy in the car got even higher, as when you near the entrance to Carowinds, you see huge sprawling roller coasters dotting the horizon. Big ones. Fast one. Scary ones.

We entered the park and I did what a responsible father would: I told them all to stay within five feet of me the whole time, and make no eye contact with anyone.

Ha! Made that joke to my daughter. She just stared at me. I told the girls to head off and have fun, and I’ll see them a bit later. The best present a dad can give his daughter on her Sweet 16? Space, in particular if three friends are with her.

I met up with my wife and son. We traveled the park hitting various rides and questioning occasionally why we thought a theme park in August was a good idea, since clearly the earth had moved twice as close to the sun as normal.

I did make a few observations while strolling the park:

  • We are a confident nation. As I walked through the park, I saw quite a few folks and thought, “Wow, that person woke up, but on that ensemble, and said, ‘This is who I am gonna be today.’” Good for you, confident person! Own your look.
  • It’s a shame some people don’t understand how lines work. It appears some people don’t realize the purpose of a line is to have an orderly manner in which to proceed. Rather, it seems some people are under the misunderstanding that a line is a challenge in which they have to see how many people they can gradually slip past. Surely it’s that and not just people being rude.
  • I am not suggesting that people should sprint through a theme park. But the Mosey Off that some folks are participating in? Lawdy. Pick it up a smidge, please.
  • I love me a good roller coaster, and Carowinds has plenty, including their newest one, Fury 325, which goes nearly 100 mph. While those are awesome, there is something about a good old fashioned wooden roller coaster, and not just because you are thinking to yourself, “Doesn’t wood sometimes rot or catch fire?” thereby adding to the adrenaline rush.
  • I found out I can tie a shoe, sort of, with one hand. Just as the shoulder harness locked into place on the quite speedy Afterburn, I looked down and saw that my right shoe was untied. Since I was about to go do flips and spins upwards of 60 mph, I figured I probably wanted to correct that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get both of my hands to my shoe because of the harness. I kicked my foot upward toward my right hand and, somehow, managed to fumble and fidget and cross the laces once, then twice, and pull them tight. It wasn’t pretty, but that bad boy was snug for the whole ride and, most importantly, on my foot when the ride ended.
  • I am not as bothered by selfies as some people. It really doesn’t affect me, so I feel no need to get my feathers in a bunch over what someone else does. That said, I was a bit surprised how many times I saw people trying to take them on roller coasters. Normally, this was on the ascent up the big hill. I have no idea what they were doing during the fast parts, because I was holding on for dear life. But I sure as heck wasn’t holding onto my phone. My phone was safely stowed in a backpack that was left in bins back at the beginning of the ride.

In all, it was a great, tiring day. Most importantly, my daughter said it was an awesome birthday. On the ride home, her friends all fell asleep in the car, so my daughter spent the bulk of the ride just chatting, which was a nice close to her Sweet 16.

She’s eager to go back to the park and ride the roller coasters again. I’m down for that. As soon as the earth moves back to the distance it’s supposed to be from the sun.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Charleston. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

Categories
Childhood Family

Keeping him in stitches

My son was staying with a friend a couple of hours away recently. After his first night there, I received a call from, around 10 in the morning. Just checking in, I figured.

“How’s it going?” I said.

“Well, I’ve been better. Took a spill on my bike. Cut my knee. But I think it’s OK,” he said.

Well, who better to diagnose the severity of a cut than a 13-year-old. On with my day!

A short while later, my wife and I both received the same text, with a picture attached. It was from his friend’s mom. “Does this look like it needs stitches?” Attached was a picture of his knee.

Yep.

My wife was in Atlanta at the same time, so she was about seven hours away. I was two hours away. My wife said, “I’ll go.” Maternal nature is sweet. But that just wasn’t practical.

I hopped in my car and headed that way. His friend’s mom offered to meet me halfway, but I told her I’d just come on that way. For one thing, they have a friend who is a doctor and would be able to stitch him up. Our pediatrician doesn’t do stitches, so we would have to go to a clinic to get it done here. I’m sure that would have been fine, but a doctor they know and trust made me feel a little better.

I arrived at the clinic about the same time they did. My son was doing his best to be brave. When we went to see the doctor, it was not what you typically expect. The dude was huge, and very fit. He was exceptionally tan, with a shaved head and a sharp, short-trimmed white beard. He wore jeans and sandals and a henley shirt. He strode over to Parker exuding cool. He offered him a fist bump and told him he’d fix him up. My wife texted me to ask how it was going. I texted back, “This doctor is cool. I could start a bar fight, and I think he could finish it by himself.”

I don’t think that’s what my wife meant with her question.

Parker hopped up on the table, and the doctor told him he was going to give him a shot, and that it would hurt for about 10 seconds, and then it would be over. He was true to his word. Maybe 10 seconds of “YOWCH!!!!” from Parker, and then nothing. The doctor told him he could watch him stitch it up if he wanted to. With the leg numbed, Parker found the procedure to be fascinating.

Five quick stitches later, the cut was sealed up. The doctor fist bumped Parker and gave us a few quick and easy instructions for keeping it clean for the next 10 days.

Once done with the stitches, we set out to plan the rest of the week. Parker had planned to stay with his friend for a few more days. In the end, we decided the best move would be for him to come back with me and we’d let the boys pick up their adventure once his knee was healed.

The wound is healing nicely, and my normally grubby, nasty son (as pretty much all 13-year-old boys are) has been very diligent about tending to it, putting Neosporin on it and replacing his bandage as needed.

I hate that he got hurt and that his time with his friend got cut short. But I am glad he was in caring hands and that I was able to get there and be with him.

Plus, he’s going to have a dandy little scar, which will go nice with the umpty-six other scars he has on elbows, forehead, etc. As the old saying goes, “Scars are tattoos with better stories.”

But the biggest takeaway from the whole event? If I ever feel the need to start a bar fight, I know who I’m calling.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Charleston. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.