After 4:00 my gym gets crazy busy and, as I moved at a glacial pace through the mid-afternoon traffic, I was more impatient than usual. I was fretting that I really wanted a cardio workout and that if I was much later I would not be able to get a good treadmill.
Just as I was crossing the railroad tracks on Commercial Boulevard my car, out of the blue, began to shudder violently; plumes of acrid white smoke began to billow from beneath the hood and every light on my control panel illuminated just as the car came to a dead stop. In the middle of the railroad tracks.
Having your car die in the middle of a busy street during rush hour generates a fair amount of stress, but having your car die in the middle of an active railroad crossing is way, way worse. Now, my heart beating madly, I turned the ignition key to restart the car. Nothing happened. Looking nervously to the left and right, and fully expecting to see the light of an oncoming train, I turn the ignition key again and of course nothing happened.
By now traffic was backing up behind me and horns began to blare. A guy in a black BMW drove by and slowed down. “Move your car!” he shouted. The driver of the car behind him gave me a look of pure contempt and the driver of the next car gave me the finger.
Now I was getting annoyed, wondering if these people really thought I chose to stop my car in the middle of a busy railroad crossing because I had nothing better to do; but then it occurred to me that I needed to move my car, and fast. I did not seriously consider pushing my car off the tracks and into a nearby parking lot because my steering wheel was completely frozen, as were my brakes; perplexed, I considered my options.
As I pondered , a Fort Lauderdale cop drove by and I was relieved that the calvary had arrived. He slowed his car, looked me over and then, incredulous, I watched him drive away.
By now it was 4:15, and I knew that there was a northbound train due any moment. My heart racing madly, praying and cursing in equal measure, I turned the ignition key again and, wonder of wonders, the car started. Then, cruelly, it died again. A man in a white Infiniti drove by and yelled, “Get a job!” which mystified me. “I have a job!” I yelled back.
Just then a huge jacked-up pickup truck pulled up behind me. A really scary guy who had more tattoos then teeth got out, checking the wallet that was attached to his jeans with what looked like a dog collar. Now my heart was really racing. “Yew want a push?” he asked.
A minute later, my car in neutral, he pushed me off the railroad tracks and I coasted down the street for a bit; I was going to thank him but, with a slight wave, he drove past me and was soon out of sight. A minute later, my heart skipped a beat when I heard the railroad crossing bell start to chime just as the crossing gates came down. Safely off the tracks, my heart beating rapidly, I turned the ignition key again and now, of course, the car started right up and, praying, I drove to my regular service station a mile or so away.
Once my car was safely in the hands of professionals I called my partner and asked him to pick me up. He was solicitous. “Want me to take you to the gym?” he asked.
“No thanks,” I said. “I got my cardio workout for the day.”