I was already running late one Saturday morning as I headed for my volunteer assignment at the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte. Halfway up the ramp to I- 85, one of my tires blew out. I made it onto the shoulder, got out and flagged down the police vehicle that was approaching.
I really just needed the officer to pull up behind me with his warning lights while I changed the tire. But this young officer decided to do the job for me.
In no time, he had jacked up my car, changed the tire and had me on my way. I was speechless. I barely had time to thank him, as he shook my hand, wished me a good day, hurried back to the squad car and was on his way.
I didn’t take note of the officer’s name, and I’m not even sure which department he was with. I’ve thought about it so many times. Each time, I beat myself up for not writing down his name and properly acknowledging this act of kindness – going way beyond the call of duty. Incidentally, he’s white. I’m black. Ralph Ingram, Harrisburg