"Chai"

​I was on my way to northern California, pulling a Scamp trailer. It was late, around midnight, and I was in the middle of nowhere Nevada when the state trooper turned on his lights to pull me over. I wasn't speeding, so I had no idea why I was being stopped.
I greeted him, "Good evening. I usually know why I'm getting pulled over, but I have no idea tonight."
The officer laughed, then said, "You don't have any lights on the trailer."
"Really?" I was surprised. "I just had the wiring on the car fixed before this trip, and the trailer is brand new." He told me, "Your brake lights are working, but you don't have any marker lights."
I sighed with disappointment. "That's exactly what I had it in for."
The officer shined his flashlight for me as I wiggled the wiring connection between the car and the trailer to see if it would come on. No such luck. I opened the back hatch of my car and got into the spare tire compartment, showing him the part. "This is the new controller they just installed." I checked all the connections—they looked good. I was at a loss.
He asked me, "Where are you going? "North of Sacramento," I replied.
"I can't let you drive down the road without marker lights," he said, but he also had a couple suggestions. "I can call a tow service for you, or there's a rest area a few miles up the road. If you turn your flashers on, I'll follow you to make sure you get there safe. You can spend the night there, and in the morning, drive into Reno to get your lights checked out."
"I'd really appreciate it if you'd follow me to the rest area," I said, not wanting to spend the money for a tow truck.
Although I got on the road bright and early the next morning, I was behind schedule. I didn't stop in Reno to have the lights repaired. I would drop the Scamp off during daylight hours and drive home without a trailer. All the lights on the car were working, so I headed for Cobb, California, north of Sacramento.
As I got nearer to my destination, I passed a sign that read, "Welcome to Lake County, California." It caused me to laugh, as I live in Lake County, Minnesota. I said aloud, "Two thousand miles and thirty-one hours of driving, and I end up right where I started - Lake County."
It was a gorgeous morning for a drive. At 65 degrees, the air smelled very fresh, and the clear skies were a brilliant blue. I turned off Highway 29 onto County Road 137 - the final stretch to my destination. The drive was thrilling, with big hills, deep valleys, and a continuous ribbon of winding curves. As I drove up the mountains, I passed farm fields of fresh produce and orchards with dark green citrus trees in perfect rows. It's a beautiful part of California, with all the agriculture - and a pleasant contrast to the big cities like Los Angeles, San Francisco, or San Diego. These are the places most people think of when California comes to mind.
As I rounded a curve, a red Saturn was stalled on the opposite side of the road. The driver was on the shoulder, looking at a cell phone outside his car. I checked my phone and had no signal. I didn't have time, but if I was stranded without cell phone service, I would want someone to stop and help me. I made a quick U-turn to see if I could help him. I pulled up behind him and got out of my car. "Need a hand?" I asked.
"It's my battery." He said, explaining, "It's only holding seven volts."
I said, "I don't have cables, but if you have a pair, I could give you a jump start."
The man explained he didn't have jumper cables but had an alternative suggestion: "My car has a manual transmission. Maybe we could push it and bump start it."
"That should work," I said.
The man was wearing a green camouflage US Air Force t-shirt. "Is that a real Air Force t-shirt?" I asked.
He laughed, "No. It's a joke, but I have real Air Force shirts at home."
"You served then," I asked.
"Yes, at Castle Air Force Base from '83 to '87. Castle closed a few years after that." He told me.
I learned his name was Chai, but I wasn't clear how he said it. He spelled it "C-H-A-I." That's what he said. What I heard was C-H-I-A.
"Chia. Like a Chia Pet?"
"It's pronounced Kye, rhymes with guy," he told me. I finally got it. Chai said he was born in Thailand and came to the United States when he was nineteen years old. "I joined the Air Force because I could earn my citizenship that way." He said, "Plus, I learned a trade without paying for a tech school."
Getting back to trying to bump-start the car, he said, "You get in, and I'll push." Then he told me he couldn't push very far because he had a heart condition.
"Dude," I insisted, "if you have a heart condition, YOU get in, and I'll push."
"Are you sure? I feel bad having you push my car." He said.
I replied, "And I'll feel even worse if you have a heart attack pushing it. Now get in." We shared a laugh over that, and Chai got into the driver's seat.
"Okay, I'm ready." He called out the window. I leaned into the vehicle and placed both hands on the edge of the trunk lid. I pushed with all my strength, but the car wouldn't budge. Chai called out the window, "Oops. I had the parking brake set. It's off now." I laughed, then started pushing. Once I had the car rolling, Chai popped the clutch, but the car didn't start.
"Let's try it again," I called to him and started pushing. He popped the clutch a second time, but the car still didn't start. "Let's go again," I hollered. After the third failed attempt, the car still wouldn't start, and we reached a point where we would be pushing it uphill.
Chai set the parking brake and got out. "I'm going to have to walk home and get another battery. Seven volts just isn't enough to start it." He said.
"That's an odd thing to say," I said, "Most people wouldn't know how many volts a battery was holding. How do you know it has seven volts?"
Chai answered, "I tested it with a volt meter. I was an electrician in the Air Force; I worked on automotive electrical systems." "Oh, really?" I said, smiling, thinking about my taillight trouble.
I told Chai about my problem. He said, "You should have a little box in your car to control those lights."
"Yes," I said, "it's in the spare tire compartment. Could you take a look at it?"
"Let me grab my meter," he said. I opened the rear hatch, and lifted the wheel well cover in my car. Chai spotted the part right off and began testing it. "Your controller is bad," he told me.
"It's brand new; I just had it installed three days ago," I said.
Chai replied, "Oh, well, if it's brand new, then it's not bad – it's defective." We shared a good laugh about that.
Chai said, "I can run a jumper wire to bypass the controller if you'd like, and then your lights will work again."
I responded, "I would really appreciate that." He grabbed a small piece of wire, a couple of connectors, and a crimping tool. In just a few minutes, he had the lights working. "I really appreciate this, Chai. What do I owe you?" I asked.
Nothing. It's my way of saying thanks for stopping to see if I needed help."
I stopped to help him, but he ended up helping me.
I was now late for my appointment to drop off the Scamp. I thought, "You're already late; what will it hurt to be a little later? This guy has a heart condition, and Lord knows how far he has to walk through these hills." I asked Chai, "You said you were going to walk home. I'm on my way to Cobb; which way do you live?"
His eyes lit up, "I'm right on your way. I live on 137, about three miles before you get to Cobb."
"This day is just full of coincidences. Jump in; I'll give you a ride." I said.
On the way to his house, we passed by a KFC restaurant. I commented about it, and he asked, "Do you like KFC?"
I laughed. "It's my weakness," I confessed. When we got to Chai's house, he said, "You can let me off at the gate; I only live a few doors down." Chai gave me his phone number. "When you're done with your trailer deal, call me. I'd like to treat you to lunch for helping me." He said.
I laughed, "But I didn't help you. You helped me." We said our farewells, and I drove down the road.
I called Leigh. "Sorry I'm late," I said, "I'll be there with your Scamp in five minutes."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'm just excited it's finally here." It took longer than expected to show her how everything worked on the trailer. I was there for almost three hours, but I don't mind. I wanted to be sure she was comfortable using her new trailer.
After leaving her house, I planned to head straight home, but I thought more about Chai. I think he really wanted to go to lunch, so I called him. "It took me longer than I thought," I said. Do you still have time to go eat?"
"Of course," he answered, "can you pick me up at the gate?"
"I'll be there in five minutes," I replied.
When Chai got in the passenger seat, I asked him, "Do you need a ride back to your car?"
"No," he said, "I picked up my friend, John. He went with me to put a new battery in it. The car started right up. I drove it, and he returned my other car to my house. John will eat with us, then I'll run him home."
"Perfect," I said, then suggested, "There's a McDonald's up ahead. Do you want to stop there?"
"No way!" Chai said, "You told me you had a weakness for KFC, and I'm going to treat you to KFC." We shared a good laugh about that, then drove to the Colonel's place.
We had some nice conversations during dinner. Chai asked if I had ever been to the Redwood Forest. I told him I had not. "Man, you should go! It's not very far from here at all." He said.
John added, "Yeah, you're already this far west; you might as well go. It's awesome."
I told them, "I would love to, but that's a trip I'm going to save for a time when my wife can be with me." With that, we said farewell, and I jumped in the car to head east.
Just the other day, I was cleaning out a box of old papers. I came across the notes I had written about that day when I met Chai, including the paper where he wrote down his phone number. That was one year ago.
My wife and I have since been to the Redwood Forest, but I never did get the story written. I wondered if he still had the same phone number. I picked the phone up and called. There was no answer, so I left a message: "Hey, this is Tom. I'm looking for Chai and wondering if you remember me. If this is his number, give me a callback." Unfortunately, I forgot how he pronounced his name, and I said Chia, like a Chia Pet.
Over the past year, I have often thought of Chai. How ironic that I didn't have time to stop and help him, but I stopped anyway, and he ended up helping me! It's funny how things work out that way sometimes.
Almost immediately, my phone rang. "Hi, Tom. It's pronounced Kye, and it rhymes with guy. Of course, I remember you. You helped me with my car that day," he said.
I laughed, "But I didn't help you. You helped me."