The past four days have been extended chaos on all fronts, so maybe that explains the inattentiveness that resulting in my running out gas in traffic for the first time in more than thirty years. It was raining lightly, I had groceries in the car, and there was nothing to do but turn on my flashers and wave the cars behind me into the next lane. Meanwhile my passenger and current house guest volunteered to walk down Glebe Road in Arlington, Va., to the nearest gas station, which wasn’t all that near.

Of the approximately 100 vehicles that passed, exactly two drivers paid any attention to my plight at all. One was a concerned Hispanic woman with an equally concerned child of about 8, but before her inquiry a young man had pulled over, rolled down his window and asked, “Need help?” I began, “There’s a bald guy walking to get me some gas…” and he said, “Got it!” then sped away.

In about 30 minutes my friend hopped out of the stranger’s car. The young man had picked my freind up, taken him to two gas stations (the first had no gas cans), waited for my freind to fill a gallon plastic water bottle with gasoline as the stranger fashioned a make-shift funnel out of a soda bottle, and driven him back to the site of my humiliation, where my tank was duly filled sufficiently to get me to a station. My friend told me that the Good Samaritan was a military officer, a devout Christian, and one hell of a nice guy.

There is hope.

Now if only I weren’t such a hopeless screw-up…