True Tales of a Talker #7: The Car Payment Collector

I never did have much luck with cars.

My husband and I leased a vehicle knowing I would most likely be over the mileage by the time the lease was up. We were going to buy it outright so I tried not to go very far over the limit. Unfortunately, family life had its way for helping me rack up the miles. We didn't want to but sometimes it would be me making the trips back and forth to Auburn more than once a week. Those miles can really add up quickly but there was no other choice at the time. It was such a great vehicle and I enjoyed driving it. I was hoping to have it for a long time.

Until the engine blew up over just over 2,000 past the warranty and two days shy of the lease being up.

Fast forward through the arguing with the dealership, finding proof of the engine known for being faulty, negotiating with the dealership and then calling the head office of the maker of the vehicle and I was fortunate to be put in a used vehicle that I had to buy outright with the $7,000 for the new engine of my old car factored in. 

In other words, I got screwed.

While paying for the "new" used car, I got a phone call six months later on a Thursday asking me for the money to pay for the overage of miles. I had forgotten that was even a thing. Since it went back to the dealership (and they auctioned it off for the bargain price of $4,000), it was completely out of my mind. You can imagine the shock of thinking there is another bill to pay on my already stretched income. They wanted $18,000!

At four o'clock in the afternoon the repayment center shuffled me around from representative to representative until a woman came on the line by the name of Audrey M. She listened to my story, the sniffling and the down right ugly crying. Do you know what the first thing she said to me was?

"Miss Sharon, I am going to make something happen for you."

And I believed her.

After forty-five minutes of sitting in my car talking to her and relaying the story of what had happened with the vehicle and the true situation of our finances, we connected with her supervisor, Carol. 

Little did I know how incredible that "something" would be. 

Miss Audrey had me retell the story to Carol. Then they said they were going to place me on hold. After being on hold for another twenty minutes (but being updated every five minutes that they were still working on things), Miss Audrey came back on the line. She said in a hushed voice "Now, I know I shouldn't tell you this, Miss Sharon, but your story touched me. I know what it's like to be in tough situations but I can tell you have an honest heart. I can tell you're not one of those people who would lie into getting a better deal. I can feel that from you. So I talked with Carol. Carol's last day at her position before taking the next step in the company is tomorrow. I asked her to do the impossible for you. And she did."

What did she do?

I was informed that she would cut the bill by eighty-five percent IF I could pay twenty payments of a negotiated amount of just over one hundred dollars a month.

That was it? 

What about the rest of it?

The rest would be forgiven. 

While still on the phone, Miss Audrey sent me the paperwork to sign. I signed it and sent it back by email right away. She then sent it to Carol who signed off on it as well. They sent me a copy.

Carol then came back on the line with us and said "This was my final act as supervisor. I think I made the good choice by making this deal. Everyone needs a break sometimes and, after talking with you, I can tell this was the right thing to do." She wished us well and hung up.

It was like a miracle!

Every month for the next twenty months I called Miss Audrey directly. She gave me her extension and I made the monthly payment with her. With each phone call, she would ask how my family was, how my band was doing and if my work was going well. In the thousands of phone call she received each month, she never forgot me.

And I'll never forget her.

True Tales of a Talker #4: The Flat Tire Edition

 

There is a story with every person on the planet. Each one is completely different than the last. Think about it. Just as no two fingerprints or snowflakes are the same, there are no two people that are the same.  There may be identical twins or triples but no two human beings in this world are exactly the same. 

And each life is amazing.

You can learn so much from just a few minutes of conversation with a complete stranger. That's what I did on a hot summer day in August 2020.

I was headed to pick up my son from paintball at my friend Julie's house when I saw my turn coming up. As I got closer I saw an old woman parked at a stop sign with a red car directly behind her. There was no one behind me so as I slowed to take the turn I asked if she needed help. She said she had a flat tire. I told her to move her car into the parking lot and I would help. When she had successfully moved her car into the dirt lot the red car moved up and sped away.

I pulled in and could see the passenger side rear tire was flat. She got out of the car and met me at her trunk. She said she had a spare and we unloaded all her packages to get to it. She didn't have a jack or wrench. Her son had taken them out a week ago because while using her car he too had a flat tire. I told her I would get mine. It wouldn't take long to change it out. 

I introduced myself and she told me her name was Maryann. She had been traveling from her apartment in Levant to medical appointments in Augusta. That's a seventy mile trip and takes over an hour. Something was telling me she wouldn't be making those appointments on a donut. It was already four o'clock.

I got her spare tire out and went to my car to get my things. I had never seen my spare tire, tire iron or jack because, truth be told, I hadn't thought to ever look. I had never needed them before.

I put down a blue sweatshirt to protect my knees from the gravel and got my first real glimpse at the tire. Not only was it completely flat, it also had no tread and was bulging out in one spot. It was no wonder it had gone flat. I went about jacking the car. I located the frame and lifted it up. I put my tire iron to the first lug nut and found it was too big. 

What was I going to do?

I told her I would call my friend Julie who lived about 10 houses down and ask her to bring hers over to see if it would fit. She said she would bring them down right away.

All this time people were driving past and looking at us. They would drive past the road or even turn up the side road and rubberneck to see what was happening. You could clearly see the spare tire, the jacked up car and the tools from every angle. 

Yet no one else stopped.

Until I flagged down a sheriff.

Somerset County Deputy Sheriff Stephen Arminger pulled in and asked if he could help. I explained the situation and he went immediately to the problem and took a look. He got the tire iron out of his vehicle and tried it.

Still too big.

He said he lived just up the road.  He would drive there and bring his back. His iron had 4 sizes. One HAD to fit.

While he was gone, I talked to Maryann. What else was there to do?

Maryann was one of seven children. She was the fourth in line. First came triples, then her and then three brothers. I told her I came from a large family too. There were nine in mine. She said it was just her and her youngest brother left. She was seventy-two and helped take care of a ninety-two year old man who lived alone. 

Maryann had four children: two daughters and two sons. She lived with one daughter because she had medical problems and her daughter helped to take care of her.  Her other daughter lives in Kansas City, Missouri and works for an eye doctor.  One of her sons moved in with them after the COVID-19 virus hit. He was just accepted into college. She said he had just turned twenty-five and told her it was time to to do "big boy things".

I asked her if I could call anyone for her and she said no. If she could just get back home, she would be okay.

Julie arrived with her tire iron and it was too big as well. Deputy Arminger came back and, sure enough, brought his four-sided iron. It turned out he and Julie knew each other.  While we were trying to figure out what to do, a Pittsfield police cruiser had turned in to see what was going on. 

Officer Jeff Vanadestine offered his assistance as well. He saw Deputy Arminger in his attempt to loosen the lug nuts but to no avail. The wrench didn't fit some and the ones it did fit were on too tight.They put their heads together and decided to call a friend of theirs that lived on the outskirts of Palmyra. It would take him about fifteen minutes to arrive. He owned a towing business.

Julie had to head home to a house of boys who were playing paintball while being supervised by her husband, Brett. She said she would drop off Anderson to me since I wasn't far away. The officers stayed and struck up a conversation with Maryann. I stayed too. My jack was still under her car but I really just wanted to keep her company. We had already been there an hour. What was a few more minutes?

So I talked. 

More.

I told her the story of when I was eight months pregnant in 2006 with my only son, Anderson. I was driving from Oakland to Waterville when I discovered I had a flat tire myself. I pulled over and thought "Well, time to get dirty." I put my hazards on and started getting the spare tire and equipment out of my trunk. 

What I didn't notice was that where I pulled over was directly across from KMD Driving School. Owner Mike Perkins was in a car with one of his students and saw what was happening. As I remember from him telling me a few years back he told the student to pull in behind me. The student asked why and he told him "You're getting your first real lesson on how to change a tire." The young mas said "Why?" Mike looked at the young man and asked him "You'd seriously leave a pregnant woman to change a tire on the side of a busy road by herself? Remember this, son, whatever you put into this world is what you're going to get out of it." 

Back to 2020 and Mike Perkins is now a 2nd term State Representative.

I called my son's scout leaders to tell them we would be a little late for our meeting and what was happening. They said it was fine and that they'd see us when we got there. Julie stopped and dropped off Anderson and I told him what was happening. I also introduced him to Maryann. About fifteen minutes later the tow truck arrived and the man from All Time Towing and Recovery immediately put a jack under the car. I removed mine and packed up my car. I gave Maryann a huge hug and she said thank you. She asked what I owed her. I told her I didn't do anything. All I wanted was for her to get home safely. 

I am a lover of country music and one of the songs that sticks out to me is a song by one of my favorite writers, David Lee Murphy. Sure you may know 'Dust on the Bottle' but my absolute favorite song by him is 'The Road You Leave Behind' . It never made it to #1 on the charts but it became #1 in many listeners hearts including mine. The lyrics tell the story of a young David traveling in the backseat of his dad's car when his father stops to change a family's tire in the rain. When David asks why he did it the chorus rings out:

"The road your leave behind you

Is another road you're gonna have to come back down.

It's just the way this big old world turns 'round.

You'll find somehow somewhere someplace sometime

You gotta go back down the road you leave behind."

I remember them stopping. I remember them helping. I remember not taking anything and not asking for it either.

I also know after talking to Mike many years later that the young man never forgot the lesson. I hope Anderson remembers on this day I stopped to try and help and the wonderful officers and business owner who helped as well.

It's a lesson well worth remembering.

Why I Believe, Love and Do

“As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and

helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you.”

― Dieter F. Uchtdorf

For the last few months at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Skowhegan,

Maine, many of the talks given have had to do with ministering. Ministering is helping

out fellow Saints in our ward by visiting, calling, helping or writing to them to see how

they are doing and if they need any help physically or spiritually. For me, it’s a little

different.

I am a member of the Newport ward. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I attend Skowhegan

because that’s where my son goes. When we moved to our new location I didn’t know the

rules had changed and that it takes more than transferring records from one ward to another.

Now it takes meetings, letters and approval of the Big Three of the General Authority to

have them changed.  I am in the process of trying to get my records moved to the Skowhegan

ward so I can continue there, hold a calling, get my temple recommend and take my son to

the temple. Nothing means more to me than being able to attend with him and watching him

grow in the church.

Listening to the talks, the same advice is given each week to minister to the members of the

church. Not being a member of the ward, I have been trying other methods to help people in

our neighborhood. This past weekend was General Conference. I had listened to the two hour

session on Saturday and felt moved to share my message of faith and my love of our Heavenly

Father and his Son. On Sunday morning, I posted a picture of the Boston temple on my

Facebook page and wrote “Happy Sunday everyone! Have a blessed day and know God and I

love you! Time to recharge my spirit!” I prayed that morning to have missionary work come

to me in some form that I might include my son.

On Sunday afternoon, my prayer was answered.

It was the first warm day of Spring and my husband wanted to be outside, as did we all. He,

my son and I went across the road to an abandoned lot and decided to metal detect. It is one

of our favorite things to do together. While we were digging, an elderly woman pulled up

and watched us from her driver’s seat.

I approached her and asked if there was something I could do for her. She asked if the young

man, pointing at my son, would be willing to help her out by doing a few odd jobs around

her yard. I called my son over and he introduced himself. When asked he emitted an enthusiastic

yes! She lived only three houses away. We told her we would meet her with our rakes in hand.

A few minutes later we arrived in her driveway and she was explaining that this was the first

time in her life she was unable to prepare her flower garden for the season. My son and I went

to work immediately raking out the long grass that surrounded the rose bushes. He was careful

to not pull out any of the new growth that was sprouting through the wet ground. There were

many returning flowers pushing through.

While we worked I asked her about the flowers and about her life. It so happened her birthday

is the day after my father’s and they will both be eighty-three this year. She said she had asked

another young man to come by last week to help but he never came. She is very unsteady on

her feet and has trouble using the stairs in her home. With Spring she has much to do but hasn’t

the strength to do it.

We finished with that flowerbed and she asked us to move on the the front yard. We filled

garbage bags full of leaves, grass and sticks. The yard was finished and we put all of her tools

away in her garage. It was then time for payment. When she asked my son how much he would

like to be compensated he told her that there was no need to pay him. He had fun working in the

sunshine.

Still, she insisted on giving him something in return. He walked up to her and held out his arms

and went in for a giant hug. “This is my payment,” he stated.

Smiling and patting his back, she still insisted on a form of payment. Without payment, she said,

there would be no reason he would want to come back. Listening to her she reminded me of my

father. When helping my parents with their laundry and odd jobs, dad is always slipping a little

something in my hand before I leave even though I say it’s not necessary. She moved to her car,

retrieved a ten dollar bill and informed us it was for both of us. She enjoyed our company and

hoped we would come back. When I thanked her for letting us do God’s work that day she started

to cry. I gave her a big hug and said we would be back.

Much like the flowers of Spring it is time for us to come out of the darkness and see the sun. It

is time for us to renew ourselves and our covenants with our Heavenly Father and brush away

the tangled mess of events in our past that we hang onto that try and hold us from our true happiness.

Let us untangle ourselves from the weeds and thorns of our worries and doubts and bring new life

to, not only ourselves, but to others around us. That they may feel the love we have for our fellow

man. That they may see the good works that can be done by helping those around them. Simple

acts of kindness is all it takes.

Had we not been outside that glorious day, the answer to my prayer may have never been noticed.

Had I ignored her and not inquired as to why she was watching us, I would have missed the chance

to befriend her. I would have missed the chance to teach my son the power of doing God’s work. I

would have also missed his chance to show me he is living the gospel by doing the work for another

for the simple payment of a hug.

Brothers and Sisters, since the first time I heard Elder Uchtdorf empower his wisdom on us all with

his “Believe. Love. Do” mentality, I have been trying to put his words into action. I think it was

meant for me because he spoke to us on my birthday, October sixth, with this message. These three

simple words have changed my life for the better.

I BELIEVE in Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit and the Book of Mormon.

I LOVE them all, my fellow Saints and non-Saints.

I DO the work that is asked of me by God.

By Believing, Loving and Doing we were able to serve not only the woman who loved her flowers

but serve our Heavenly Father. And that is all that is ever asked of us.