Sometimes a man’s characteristics clash. In effect, they cancel each other out. He might be very nice to people face-to-face then stab them in the back when they turn around. He might give great sums to worthy causes (often getting his picture in the paper for the effort) but be stingy with his wife and kids at home. He might help out an environmental organization and then douse his lawn with pesticides.
In reality, I guess, most of us, if we’re honest, must admit to being “conflicted” when it comes to our personal virtues and vices. I have never met a person who was perfect and the ones who pretend to be are usually, on closer examination, about as far from the ideal as possible.
Last Friday, two of my own characteristics with which I struggle sometimes came to life in a disturbing manner. On the one hand, generosity; on the other, tightwadedness. Let’s just say I would give you the shirt off my back but only if it was an old shirt I was about to throw out anyway.
A friend called me at work in a panic. Her car had run out of gas on a busy main street on a Friday afternoon. Could I help? By all means I could and would. I jumped in my own small buggy and hustled on over, knight in shining armour. By then, some passersby had pushed her vehicle into a parking lot.
My friend was not eager to buy a gas can just to put a few litres into her tank to get her to a station. No problem, I said. I have a can with gas in it at home. So, to my home we drove and I retrieved the gas from the shed.
On the way back, I started to worry about it. It was the highest grade of gas I could get (my lawnmower needs it) and it cost a fortune when I bought it a few weeks ago when prices were high. I didn’t really want to dump it all in her tank just to get her to a station. And – see generosity characteristic above – I refused all her attempts to pay me for my gas.
So, on our return to the car, I took off the gas cap and carefully poured half of what I had into the thirsty opening. Back to the office I went, satisfied at a good deed done.
The phone rang before I got back. She had run out of gas again, just two blocks farther down the street. I raced back to the scene and this is where logic got lost in the heat of the moment. I dumped the other half of my gas in the tank and somehow thought that would get my friend to the station. This time I followed her. She got two blocks and sputtered out again. In what must be a new record, she had run out of gas three times in the space of a few blocks. And I had helped her achieve two of those record-breaking feats.
Finally, we drove to the station where she (I wasn’t allowed near my own gas can) filled up the container and put it in my trunk. We returned to the car, dumped the whole thing in her tank and off she sped.
And while I am happy I was able to help her out, I am still fretting about giving up my half a can of premium gas.
But these days, maybe that’s not a totally unreasonable regret. I’ll just toss it into the trunk of regrets I keep tucked away in my basement and which I someday plan to douse in non-premium gas and light ‘er up.
True to form, before the fire’s out, I’ll regret having done that.
©2008 Jim Hagarty
Nov. 20, 2008
