While living in Southern California, we kept our boat tucked away in our garage until we took off a week to ten days and headed to Northern California to camp at one of the less crowded lakes. We would pack up our chairs, tiny bar-b-que, food and supplies for the week, and pull our boat with our truck or SUV.
Several years ago, we packed everything up, and my husband, son, his fiancé, and I piled in our extended cab truck, and we headed out. The first part of our road trip took us right down the middle of Los Angeles on the 5 freeway, four lanes each way in stop and go traffic. As we headed into the heat of the worst of the traffic, a little Pinto pulled up on the passenger side of the car was frantically waving their arms trying to get our attention. Nervously I rolled down my window. The driver of that Pinto yelled as loud as he could, “Stop! Your boat, it’s on Fire!” Wait, WHAT?! Our boat is on fire? Was this guy crazy? What could this guy be up to. I stuck my head out the truck window, and sure enough, there where small flames coming from the wheel well of the trailer. I thanked that kind man. For most of the 5 Freeway, the shoulder of the road is not big enough for a car much-less a truck pulling a boat. We took the first exit and ended up in the parking lot of a huge home improvement store. Once we stopped, my husband was able to jump out and spray the tire area of the boat. After calling the boat shop and a close evaluation, my husband informed us that in that stop and go traffic, our brakes literally burned up. The next hour was spent in the parking lot, on the hot asphalt, in the hottest part of the summer, removing the charred brakes from our boat trailer. The mechanic assured my husband that the trailer brakes weren’t necessary, that our truck could handle our little boat.
Once my husband and son got the brakes taken care of, we loaded things back up, and headed back on that overcrowded freeway to our lake vacation.
When the man in the Pinto tried to get my attention in downtown Los Angeles, I was so nervous, suspicious, scared, and skeptical, but I needed to not jump to conclusions, to listen to what the frantic little man was trying to say, so I could hear that he wanted to save our boat, our truck, our lives, and everyone around us.
“Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear,
slow to speak, slow to anger.” James 1:19
