BLACK HOLE OF LUCK MEMOIR - The Man on My Hood

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The Man on My Hood

I was driving home one day after work. I stopped at a red light between a local college and a high school. I was about 5 cars back in my 2 month old red SUV. I noticed a very old Asian man on the sidewalk wringing his hands in a state of obvious agitation. I looked over at him, he made eye contact, and I looked back forward waiting for the light to change. My car shook and I realized in horror that the little old man was trying to open my car door (thankfully locked – the Black Hole of Luck is very paranoid). After failing to open the door, he climbed onto the hood of my car. He was yelling something in his native dialect. I am horribly mono-lingual, so not only did I not know what he was saying I had no idea what language he even was speaking. It just kind of sounded like, “Aye Aye Aye!!!”

Being the ex-Girl Scout that I am, my first reaction was to ask the man very loudly if he needed help, should I call 911, was he in pain? He stopped for a second, looked at me like I had lost my mind and then proceeded to bang on my windshield and continue to yell (still not in English – that would have been too easy).

The light was green now, for all the good it did me. I did not want to move the car for fear of throwing the frail looking old man into traffic which was now flowing past me – well except for the drivers in the cars stuck behind me who where honking at me and flipping me off. People were driving past me yelling obscenities.

I yelled at one guy, “What the heck am I supposed to do? I have Mr. Fricking Miyagi on my hood!”

I called 911. When the operator answered I had to shout over the old man’s voice. Boy that old guy had some pipes!

“911, what is your emergency?”

“An old Asian man has crawled onto the hood of my car. I can’t get him off.”

“Yes ma’am. Where are you?”

I told her the intersection.

“Are you in the parking structure?”

“No, I’m sitting on the Lemon Avenue.” (Later the irony of the street name would sink in.)

“Your car is in traffic?”

“Yep.”

“And the man is on your hood?”

“Yep. Can you please have someone come take him off? Wait, hold on a sec…”

Mr. Miyagi (okay sorry that’s who I thought of when I saw him and the name just stuck in my head) had started pulling on my side mirror. The fear of killing him in traffic was becoming slightly overshadowed by the love of my new SUV.

“No, No,” I shouted through the glass, “No touchy mirror! No touchy mirror!”

Back to the 911 operator now, “Okay, I’m back. Sorry, he was yanking on my side mirror.”

“Did he stop when you told him no touchy mirror?”

“Yes.”

The operator giggled.

“Can you please send someone to take him off my car?”

“Yes ma’am, a car is on the way. Stay with me and answer a few more questions for the officer. Do you know this man?”

“No.”

“Do you know why this man might be on your hood?”

“Because I’m a FREAK MAGNET and things like this happen to me. Can you PLEASE have the officer hurry up? --- Hey, I said NO TOUCHY MIRROR!”

Giggle – “Did he stop again?”

Sigh “Yes.”

She was now giggling harder, and I heard her tell someone, “She says she’s a freak magnet and things like this just happen to her. She shouts with an Asian accent at the man and tells him no touchy mirror and he stops.”

Had I been speaking with an Asian accent? How embarrassing, I guess I had. Sigh...

On the phone there is now giggling in the background.

Double sigh. “Is the police car close? HEY, drive around! CAN YOU NOT SEE I HAVE AN OLD MAN ON MY HOOD? YEAH? WELL RIGHT BACK AT YOU BUDDY!”

She’s laughing on the phone now. Who knew 911 operators had such a well honed sense of humor?

The police car finally comes around the corner. The policewoman has to go down the street a ways and flip a U-ey to get back to me. Just then a nurse in the standard white nursey uniform comes running down the street. She gets to my car and peels the old man off my hood and waves and me and says thank you.

Thank you? What the heck? I roll down my window about 2 inches. I keep my hand on the button in case Miyagi gets loose.

“Oh no no no,” I say shaking my head, “You don’t go anywhere until you talk to the police.” I did not just sit in traffic getting cussed at so she could smile and wave at me like she knew me.

A red SUV much like mine parks across the street and a youngish thin beautiful Asian woman with black hair cut in a bob which look a lot like my dark brown hair also cut in a bob jumps out and starts talking whatever-dialect-that-was to the old man. He instantly stops struggling and looks to me in bewilderment. The policewoman gets there, asks me if I’m okay, tells me to stay put, then goes to talk to the three people on the sidewalk.

When she finishes with them she comes to tell me that the man had escaped from an Alzheimer’s facility right up the street when his daughter (the woman in the red SUV) had come to pick him up and had left him outside the front door of the facility to go bring her car around. The man wandered down the street and thought big white me was his daughter. I guess he’s almost blind too.

Like I said Freak Magnet a.k.a. Black Hole of Luck. Yep that’s me.
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