I dread car repairs, because I don’t really don’t know much about cars. I felt a bit better when the mechanic identified the squeaks as brake pads needing to be replaced. We made an appointment for five days later. I knew there was a space in the service station office where people sometimes sat, but would there be room for me on the appointed day? Would I need to walk around in the shop or outside for a couple of hours? I arrived about ten minutes before the set time, parking before the bay I thought he might use. Before I shut off the engine, I saw the mechanic coming toward me. “You are the nine o’clock appointment, right? I’m ready for you right now.”

I sat down inside, having the bench area all to myself. There was a constant stream of people coming to the service desk. Suddenly I recognized a man’s voice and got up to speak to him. I never knew his real name, but I called him Woodman when telling people about him. He reduced logs to firewood beside the road I walked on to get to the creek. I said, “I’m the one who used to walk by every morning.”

“Oh! How are you? Yes, I remember you. Your hair is lots shorter now.” He did recognize me! We established the fact that we both are fine and said our farewells.

I enjoyed the warmth from the wood-burning stove next to the bench. The photo shows the stove and an inviting rocking chair opposite the bench.

A man came and stood before the stove, and I remarked that the warmth felt good. He said, “Yes, I’m gonna put some in my pockets for later.”

With that he put his hands in his pockets to open them a bit to catch warm air before he walked away.

I certainly did not expect to see someone I knew or to have a mini-conversation with a stranger. I was surprised that only an hour had passed before the cashier said my car was ready. I told myself I should be ashamed of dreading something that turned out to be delightful.