Driving along Interstate 10, in my vintage 1963 Corvette convertible, listening to a string of songs by "The Beach Boys", I can't imagine a more beautiful day. The warm wind whistles past my ears, sweeping the relentless heat of the sun away with it. Escaping the confines of the concrete city, my senses drink in the vast surroundings, enjoying the solitary, wide-open spaces. Mountains of sand dunes dotted with dried brush and prickly cactus can be seen for miles and miles. Occasionally, weather beaten boards, remnants of a long-ago shanty, can be seen nestled beneath a tree. Along the roadside, the shell of an abandon car, partially covered by the blowing sand, reminds one of the dangers this scenic route can hold.

Enthralled with this moment of solitude and beauty, I'm caught totally off-guard by a loud, persistent banging and an acrid smell. Irritated by the intrusion, I search for its origin, only to discover, it's my car. An angry knocking persists from beneath the hood as I pull to the side of the road. Sizzling puffs of water rise into the air to be vaporized by the scorching sun.

My euphoria is immediately replaced by devastation! The mountains of sand dunes, the brilliant sun and the feeling of freedom have vanished in a flash, replaced by vast emptiness, burning skin and despair. The wind whips the parched granules of sand relentlessly around my face. My throat screams for refreshing cool water as I stare at the empty water bottle on the seat.

With no signs of life within miles, I fear for my demise. Remembering how often I had chastised my friends for their obvious dependency on a cell phone, I suddenly regretted my every word. Stranded, alone, beneath the blistering sun, my imagination paints vivid pictures of my body being discovered, baked by the sun, and my vintage convertible buried beneath the blowing sand.

I'd heard that your life flashes before your eyes, moments before your death. My mind wandered through my happy childhood, my successful career and settled on my family and friends. Suddenly a blaring alarm went off in my head....Friends! Thank God for wonderful friends. Jackie, my beautiful next-door neighbor, to be exact! Reaching deep into my pant's pocket, my fingers wrapped around the small square box nestled against my thigh. Hallelujah! My Salvation!

Jackie had been weeding her flowerbeds this morning as I was preparing to start my scenic drive. Making small talk, I mentioned my plans to drive down Highway 10 and enjoy the wonderful day. After sharing her thoughts about the desert and my vintage car, she reached into her apron pocket, pulled out a tiny pink cell phone, and handed it to me, saying, "Just in Case!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My mother was a firm believer in saving a few dollars for a rainy day, doing unto others, as we would want them to do unto us, and never leaving the house without clean underwear. Closing my eyes, I can see her standing in the kitchen door, wisps of pale blonde hair plastered to her face, waving a spatula in my direction as she repeated those very words to me. Of course, being young and worldly, I listened with respect, nodded and then, placing a kiss on her cheek, I escaped the confines of my home, immediately forgetting everything she'd said. Did anyone really care about all that unimportant stuff?

It's been five years since my mother passed away, but I remember her with loving thoughts every day. Today, being a holiday, my mind is filled with memories of family picnics, mom's scrumptious barbecue, bombarding my sisters with water balloons, and tons and tons of raucous laughter. Fond memories of a blissful childhood!

My friends and I had decided to spend the day at a near-by park, a bit of luscious green oasis on the edge of the city limits. We'd grill hamburgers and brats, play a game of softball, refresh our pallets with a beer or two, and enjoy the camaraderie of friends. It wasn't the same as being with family, but it certainly was the next best thing. I'd had a long, difficult week at work and I was looking forward to some relaxation.

As I approached the park entrance, a young girl, possibly 8 or 9, was frantically waving and jumping up and down. Remembering mom's motto of doing unto others, and fearing something tragic might be wrong, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. Immediately, the girl raced to the driver's door, babbling that her brother had fallen into the ravine and couldn't get up. Her tear stained face and urgent pleas for help, not to mention mom, forced me into immediate action.

Quickly asking when and where, we rushed off in the direction of the ravine. Tall, stately oak and elm trees entangled with wild brush covered the hillside. The young girl, calmer now, pointed towards the bottom of the ravine, urging me to hurry. I couldn't possibly see through the tall weeds and brush, but not knowing how serious the situation might be, I charged into the thicket, intent on coming to the brother's rescue.

Suddenly, without any warning, someone or something rammed into my back, sending me tumbling head over heels through the brush until I body slammed one of the giant trees. Having hit my head numerous times as I tumbled down the hillside, my brain was slightly scrambled as I tried to understand the recent chain of events. One moment, I was the "Good Samaritan" charging to the rescue and the next, I found myself entwined with prickly brush and an obvious broken leg.

Looking about for the young girl, my eyes began to focus on two, yes, two young girls, laughing and pointing at my disastrous predicament. Spying my wallet that had flown from my pocket during my descent, the one girl swiftly scooped it up, checking the contents and screaming for joy. With a wave in my direction, they clamored up the hill without even another look behind.

After calling 911 and making several calls to friends, I was finally carried up the hill on a stretcher by six strong rescue workers. After a quick inspection by the EMT, they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and closed the doors. Possibly suffering from a mild concussion, I thought I could hear my mom scolding me about clean underwear and me asking why. As the ambulance pulled away, headed towards the hospital, I saw her smile and say, "Just in case, son, just in case."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Having been cooped up inside for weeks, I finally decided I needed to get outside and breathe in some fresh air. Last night, the weatherman had forecast a warm, sunny day with a gentle breeze and by the looks of it; he was right on the money. Having been released from the hospital several weeks ago, I was finally able to walk on my leg again. The cuts and bruises had long since disappeared and the only visible evidence of my accident was a slight limp, because I favored the one leg.

My friends, at least that's what they say they are, had tormented me with hours of fabricated stories about two burly toughmen who had drug me into the woods, beaten me within an inch of my life before robbing me and leaving me to die. They'd found extreme pleasure in elaborating more and more until the details were simply beyond belief. Even I had found myself laughing at how easily I'd been duped by two young girls, certainly young, but definitely not innocent.

Waving at my next-door neighbor, I began to walk along the sidewalk, admiring the well-trimmed lawns and the brilliant splashes of color that adorned the gardens. A few children were playing basketball in one driveway and another was spraying his dog with the hose. A perfect setting for a beautiful day in suburbia!

Enjoying being outside in the sunshine, I neglected to notice how far my stroll had taken me. The frazzled nerves in my "mending" leg started sending occasional pangs of pain to my brain, reminding me that it was still recovering. Searching for someplace to rest, I spotted a bench near the bus stop and headed in that direction. Once comfortably seated, I realized that I'd probably pushed the limits, walking so far. I decided to rest awhile before attempting the trip back home.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, a city bus pulled up to the curb, opening its doors. I waved at the driver, telling him that I didn't need a ride. At the rear bus doors, I could see a lady struggling to descend the bus stairs, carrying two bags of groceries. She stood about 5' tall with bluish gray hair, and probably didn't weigh 100 pounds, even soaking wet. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis and her walk was as unsteady as mine. As she reached the sidewalk, her eyes met mine and she smiled.

Without another moment of hesitation, I stood up and walked toward her. Smiling, I said hello and offered to help her carry the bags of groceries. At first, she declined, but when I insisted, telling her I was going her way, she thanked me profusely. We walked for several blocks, chatting about the weather and the beautiful gardens. She had lived in the neighborhood all her life and she knew just about everyone here.

When we reached her gate, she told me she could handle the groceries from here and thanked me again for being so kind. As I turned to leave, she asked. "Young man, I didn't catch your name."

I smiled at her and said, "It's Justin, ma'am. Justin Case."