Turtles and Immigrants

Good deeds come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. There are people like Earl Morse who recognizes that not all World War II vets can make it to DC to see their memorial, so he makes it possible for them to go. Then there are the little good deeds, like holding a door open for some one, or helping a person put five gallon pails of paint into a cart or picking up a dropped piece of paper for someone.

I was on my way to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get my non-drivers ID so I could work at the track, when I saw a snapping turtle trying to make its way across Route 9. The turtle was the size of a hub cap and had an attitude of a spring bear. I veered around the reptile and pulled over. The turtle caught a major break.

I trotted back to get the creature out of the path of traffic before someone got seriouly hurt. (Hit that thing and no telling what the cost of a front end alignment might be.) Suddenly, I felt a little like Steve Urwin, approaching a croc. With a car barreling down on us I took a few steps forward to pluck the thing up and it took off as fast as a turtle can take off, which was surprisingly faster than I had expected. No time to wonder just where to grab the thing. I scooped it up with a heft. It must have weighed ten pounds. Its legs retracted into the dark brown shell, but his head raised back mouth agape.

Not to panic. I stepped to the side of the road. There I stood with a huge snapping turtle in my clutches wondering what to do with the thing. I looked behind me and scanned the direction from which it came. Nothing but the Jeep dealers pavement. Normally, this would be a great opportunity to inspect the specimen. Note the sharp spiked curve of its shell, take a closer look at the mouth, flip him over to see with underside. However, he smelled awfully peculiar. In fact, the odor was nothing short of gross. I held him away from me, expecting a shower to turtle pee.

Suddenly, I wanted to get this guy across the road as quickly as possible. He probably felt the same way. And just as suddenly there was a huge wave of morning commuters. He was growing heavier and smellier by the second. One car after another zoomed by, a few drivers rubbernecking the sight of a woman standing on the side of a busy road holding a turtle.

A gap. I scurried across, thankful that the big guy had the patience of an angel. I’m sure he thought the smell sooner or later would get him released. I nestled him down in the weeds about 20 feet from the road. I made sure to face him in the direction he had been headed. He took off. All but the smell.

Fortunately, I carry wipes in the Jeep.

So that was one good deed. You know the saying one good deed follows another. Returning from the library, I saw a man standing at a bus stop hailing an oncoming bus. Except the bus blew right past him. In my rear view mirror, I saw him jump into the road waving madly at the bus that grew smaller by the second.

The short man looked like a guy someone would accuse of being an illegal alien – not that I’m stereotyping anyone or anything. Since I had just applied for a job and seemed to have gotten it without even opening my mouth and now considered myself part of America's hourly and abused workforce, I identified with my stranded fellow-coworker. And I couldn’t believe the driver never stopped.

I wasn’t going anywhere but home, and had no plans except to take the cat to the vet and pick a quart of berries. I swung the Jeep around. I cruised down the street looking for him. He was walking at a fast clip, carrying a small backpack (Does he look like a turtle?). Obviously, he was going to work and was going to be late.

How do you approach someone walking down the street while you are cruising in your car? If some guy passed me and asked if I needed a ride, I’d politely decline and think the worst.

The guy still clutched a dollar for fare money. “Hey, I saw the bus pass you. You need a ride?”

In an accent from somewhere in South America, he said yes and thank you. He had been on his way to work at a hotel on South Broadway. He wasn’t angry about the bus; he was grateful I offered him a ride.

I hit every light on Broadway green. We passed the bus and I joked, “You’re going to be early.” Before he stepped out of the Jeep he told me his name was Mario.

Today I saved a turtle and a job, or at least ,prevented a guy from being late and getting a good chewing out from his boss.