So, I'm driving to work, and I get off the 101 at Van Nuys because sitting on the freeway for 40 minutes is a waste of time, even with an iPod full of Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann podcasts. As I pull onto the offramp, I'm in the middle of a cloud of steam, which is a neat trick considering how hot and dry Los Angeles has been for the past week. There's a Volvo in the right lane with white smoke billowing from under the hood, probably a radiator melting down. And as I get closer, I see a small Obama sticker on the bumper.
Any thoughts of driving away go out the window as my Inner Obama Supporter and Inner Eagle Scout gang up on my Inner Commuter and tell me to pull over and help. I zip around the corner to a gas station and see someone walking toward the steaming car. Awesome, I think, I won't have to push this beast alone. I park and head back to the offramp.
There's an older man, probably my dad's age, wearing USC track pants (the crimson color and gold Trojan logo running up the seams are tough to miss) talking to the driver, a woman in her 20s. She looks harried, as anyone would with a melting car on one of the busiest offramps in the city. "Should we give her a push?" I say, and the man nods. As we belly up to the bumper, he turns to me and asks, "So, who are you voting for?"
Now, I'm all for the casual political discussion with a complete stranger, but, really, 9am on the eastbound Van Nuys offramp on a Thursday just ain't the time. So, I just pat the Obama sticker on the Volvo's backside, and he nods and says, "Then this is a bipartisan push." I laugh as we roll the car onto Van Nuys and around the corner to the gas station.
As we bump up into the parking lot, he says, "I think your guy's going to win."
My head is full of McCain's peevish, eye-rolling performance last night, of snap polls and what I hope will be an overwhelming Democratic victory in November. What do I say? There's still work to do. California may be a total gimme for Obama, but we still have plenty of local elections and that thrice-damned bucket of hate called Prop 8 to vote down. This guy's vote is going to be swept aside. "I'm not holding my breath until Election Day," I say.
We get the Volvo into one of the repair bays at the gas station, and the driver thanks us both profusely. The man and I walk back to our cars; his sedan has a few McCain stickers, but none naming the full Republican ticket. "I'm glad you had the same idea," I say, "'cause pushing that car solo would've been a pain." We shake hands, he gives me a friendly pat on the back, and off we go, two Angelenos having helped a third in trouble.
Makes me glad I didn't mention that I'm a Cal fan.
UPDATE: No tip jar for me, what with the "Do a Good Turn Daily" bit. Instead, please throw a few bucks to Equality For All to defeat Prop 8!