It was just about two months ago I had one of those experiences that as they say, "sticks to your ribs." One you remember for years to come and will tell to your grandchildren. An experience so strange that during it you pinch yourself to make sure it isn't a dream. So, bear with me as I setup the details of the story because it is in those details the beauty is found. Yep, it started out very innocently. I had just left Chattanooga to drive back to Knoxville when I found out my sister had just passed through Chattanooga. If we were close enough I thought, maybe we could carpool to make the trip shorter. So I called her up and asked, "Where are you?" "I'm not sure, maybe around mile marker 30." Since I hadn't reached I-75 yet and had only been in Chattanooga for one week, I really didn't know how long it would take reach her. We talked a bit and figured she should pull off at the next well populated exit. As we were talking though, I heard what sounded like a ball hitting the underside of my car. I didn't really think anything about it. I was almost to I-75 and I assumed something must have been on the road and just kept going.

As I continued driving, my sister told me, "Hey Eric, I'm at exit 49 and will wait at the Shell." "Ok" I replied just as I reached I-75 North. It was only then I realized I was 44 miles behind my sister. We kept talking for a while because I assumed she was gonna eat while waiting for me. However, when I asked, "What are you eating?" my sister replied, "Oh, I'm gonna wait until I get home." With still at least 40 minutes until I reached her, we decided she shouldn't wait but should go on to Knoxville. I was just too far behind. The amount of time it would take to catch up was about the same amount of time she had left to drive home. Thus we decided to abandon the carpool idea.

Abandoning one of those seemingly small spur of the moment ideas which makes you think, "Oh well, maybe next time."

Since I was in a hurry to catch up with my sister and carpool, I put off my normal pre-trip routine of filling up with the gas I needed to complete the entire trip. It is a relatively short trip from Chattanooga to Knoxville. In fact, normally I don't need to fill up. This time however, I did and in my rush out of Chattanooga I thought, "I can just fill up when we meet." However, now that she had gone on without me I could fill-up anywhere. "But why change" I figured, "I might as well make it to exit 49." From my sister's description it sounded like a good place to stop. As it turned out, it was a great place to stop.

Now, up to this point I've left out an important detail about my car. Yep, I have a manual transmission. One of those cars. Yes, one of those cars that is incredibly fun to drive on back roads yet boring on the interstate. Boring because you never shift on the interstate if there's no traffic. Again, a seemingly trivial matter but one that would have made all the difference had I filled up earlier.

You see, after filling up my car at exit 49 I pulled out onto the road and had to stop at the one light between me and the I-75 entrance ramp. At this point I had shifted maybe three times since getting off the interstate. So when the light turned green and I started up and with maybe three car lengths to the turn for the entrance ramp, something weird happened. My car wouldn't shift out of second. Well, to be more precise my shifter just stopped working. The shifter just stayed in the middle of the gearbox and flopped from the top to the bottom without resistance. Not a good thing.

I let out on the clutch to see what had happened and I realized my car was still in second. Somehow my shifter had become detached from my transmission. "Uh oh," I though, "That must have been the clunk I heard back in Chattanooga." Now medical students learn quickly that everything needs a name. We all know there is a name for every syndrome so being a good medical student I christened my car's syndrome, "Floppy shifter syndrome." Let me tell you, that name is very descriptive and when your car gets floppy shifter syndrome, it isn't a good feeling.

So without much choice, I put in the clutch and drifted over to the shoulder. As I stopped I noticed a water utility truck pull off with me. The truck then went around me on the gravelly/grassy right side of the shoulder and come to a stop a little in front of me. I didn't really think anything about it except maybe they were checking the drainage ditchs.

After stopping, I sat in my car for a few more seconds messing with my shifter. I was hoping beyond hope it would work. Nothing I could do would convince my car it was in the wrong and I really needed to have a shifter. No, floppy shifter syndrome just wasn't allowed right now because I was still 50 miles from home and didn't know anyone in Decatur, TN. Without much else to do, I hopped out of my car and somewhat helplessly walked around it.

As I walked around the car I remembered that clunk I heard back in Chattanooga and started looking under it when I heard a voice call out from the truck, "Everything ok?" A little surprised, I said, "No, I think my shifter linkage is broken." That was when two Athens Utility District employees got out, one older and one younger. The older one introduce himself as Randy and offered to help. He had a phonebook and a cellphone in the truck and said he would call around to get me a tow truck and mechanic. It hadn't even been one minute and already the Lord had provided someone to help. Wow, I was humbled.

As Randy made some calls I got back in my car to get my phone when the other utility worker came over to look at my car. I demonstrated my car's floppy shifter syndrome and heartily agreed with his assessment of "That's not good." Everything had happened so fast that I hadn't even processed the situation when Randy called me over to his truck. He had a mechanic on his cell he had called about my car and now was handing me the phone. Wow! Only three minutes after drifting off the side of the road I was talking on a total stranger's cellphone to a random mechanic that could tell me what was wrong with my car and have it fixed it by Tuesday.

That is all well and good, but unfortunately Tuesday wasn't soon enough. I really wanted to get back to Knoxville. More importantly however, I needed transportation back to work Monday morning. I asked if it could be done any sooner, but the mechanic needed to order the the linkage straps (what had broken) and wouldn't get them until Monday.

It had been maybe four minutes since I drifted off the road. I had walked back to my car thinking of what I should do while talking to the mechanic. I hadn't been paying attention to what was happening around me when Randy hollered over to me and pointed out something. A pick-up truck with an empty car dolly had pulled over just before the exit. The fellow driving it was driving to Knoxville and wanted to know if I needed a lift.

Ok, at this point it was getting a little more then I could believe. My head was really spinning. Five minutes hadn't even passed since I realized my car was broken. I was talking to a random mechanic on a stranger's cellphone and to top it off, some total stranger was offering me a ride back to Knoxville. Truth is definitely stranger than fiction. There is no way in the world I could have come up with this story.

I quickly got the number of the mechanic and told him I might have another option and would call him back if I needed his services. I looked up and said, "Sure I could use a ride, but my car needs one too." Randy said that the fellow would be glad to tow my car back. I really couldn't believe it. Here I was in some random town and three total strangers were giving their time to help. Again, I was humbled by their kindness.

At this point you might be wondering about the title, "Are you better than a . . ." You might be thinking, "Wow, that is a cool story." It gets better. Yes, truth is definitely stranger then fiction.

To be continued . . .