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SPARK PLUGS AND SYNCHRONICITY
THE UNEXPECTED ROAD TO MEANINGFUL
COINCIDENCE
By Tom Terez
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spark plug.....- noun
1. a device for firing the explosive mixture in an internal combustion engine.
2. Informal. a person who leads, inspires |
My plan for December 31, 2004, seemed reasonable: Leave my hometown of Columbus at
noon. Drive the two hours and fifteen minutes to Cleveland. Attend my aunt's two-hour
funeral service at 2:30 p.m. Then drive back late that afternoon to spend a thoughtful
New Year's Eve at home.
Everything started according to plan. Bright sun, clear skies, and an empty highway
made for easy driving. I spent the first hour thinking all good thoughts about my
aunt, my mother (her sister), and my father (who had died just two months earlier).
I sped past the midway point, checking my watch and noting that I'd arrive early.
Then it happened: my car engine began to shake, rattle, and roar. I pulled over and
turned off the engine, fully expecting a volley of pistons to shoot through the hood.
Now? Now?! My trusty car has to break down now?!
I checked my watch and did some quick math. My aunt's funeral would begin in 90 minutes.
The car would have to cooperate, right?
Wrong. As I turned the key, the engine began to rumble. If ever a car spoke, this
one did so with conviction. Its driving day was done. I released the key, sat back,
and took a deep breath.
My mind raced through possible solutions. Could one of my siblings drive from Cleveland
to pick me up? Sure, but given the distance, they'd miss most of the funeral service.
Could I get a rental car? I was in rural Ohio on New Year's Eve -- hardly the best
place and time to find a car. Could I walk the highway and thumb a ride? Absolutely,
but what was the chance of a quick pick-up?
For the next five minutes, I sat there in complete resignation. Get to Cleveland
in 90 minutes -- no, 85 minutes -- without a car? Impossible. I was going to miss
the funeral service.
Then something took over, as if my own internal spark plugs suddenly jumped to life.
Miss the funeral? No way. Whatever it takes, I'll get there. And I'll get there
on time.
I picked up my cell phone and called AAA's emergency road service. My mother had
worked for them for years -- perhaps she'd intervene from the great beyond.
A friendly AAA phone rep quickly took in my situation and promised to send a tow
truck, but she couldn't say how long I'd have to wait. "It would help if you
knew exactly where you are on the highway," she said. During the drive, I had
been so lost in thought that I never saw the exits or mile markers. "We'll do
our very best to get there as soon as possible."
I clicked off the phone and took yet another look at my watch. Ten minutes had ticked
by. The funeral would begin in 75 minutes, and I was still 60 minutes of drive time
away. Every rational piece of information was working against me, but I remained
rock solid: I'm going to get there.
As my emotional spark plugs began to fire, I climbed out of my hobbled car and started
walking down the highway. I figured that if I could find a mile marker and call back
the road service, the tow truck would have an easier time finding me. It seemed like
a good idea -- until an even better idea pulled over in the form of a fully functioning
car and two friendly faces.
The passenger window rolled down. "Need help?"
I looked in and saw a man and woman in the front seat, and a load of wrapped presents
in the back. Could help arrive this quickly? In one minute? Just like that? Talk
about a gift.
"You bet I need help," I said. "I'm going to a funeral in Cleveland
and..."
They followed my fast words and offered to drive me straight to the funeral home.
The driver got out and helped me carry a few bags of holiday gifts from my car to
his -- things I had brought for my siblings and cousins. Then I climbed into the
mystery car and sat back as we zoomed off.
Ed, the driver, reached back to shake my hand. His wife, Dee, did the same. "We're
on our way to spend a few days with friends near Cleveland," Dee said.
The three of us began to chat like old friends. They asked me about my work and expressed
genuine interest. Ed told me about his own work as owner and operator of a concrete
construction company in Kentucky. When I told them about my broken-down car and my
resolve to get to the funeral one way or the other, Ed nodded.
"We're all co-creators in our own way," he said. "Do you think it's
by pure chance that we're helping you?"
Ed's profession suddenly seemed appropriate. Here he was, constructing a positive
outcome for a total stranger.
As we drove, I called AAA to let them know I wouldn't be with the car when the tow
truck arrived. The phone rep made a note. "It's being picked up by Terry's Towing
and Repair," she said.
 My eyes widened. "You said Terry? Terry's Towing?"
After the call, I explained my surprise to Ed and Dee. Terry had been my father's
long-time nickname. Everyone called him Terry or Mr. Terry. Could he too be conspiring
from the great beyond to get me to the funeral on time?
"I'd bet on it," Ed said.
An hour later, Ed was making a big U-turn in front of the funeral home to drop me
off at the front door. I asked my new friends to wait for a minute while I went inside
to get my siblings, convinced that they wouldn't believe the story unless I showed
them Ed and Dee in person. Only one of my brothers was available; my sister and other
brother hadn't arrived yet. There were 15 more minutes before the start of the service.
I went on and on thanking Ed and Dee while my brother stood back in smiling amazement.
Ed leaned over and gave me a hug -- the concrete construction guy happy to have such
a positive impact.
That evening and into the early hours of January 1, my siblings and I enjoyed time
together while welcoming the new year. We toasted AAA, Terry's Towing, Ed, Dee, our
aunt, and our parents. I even toasted my car, happy that its broken whatever had
given me such an eye-opening day.
Two days later I called Terry's Towing and Repair to find the fate of my car. The
mechanic laughed. "It's the cheapest car repair bill you'll ever have,"
he said. Turns out a spark plug had called it quits at just the wrong time. A single
spark plug!
Was the happy resolution all by accident? Not exactly. For starters, I resolved to
get to the funeral service on time, even in the face of so-called reality. I knew
I'd get there somehow, some way. I left my car and started walking down the highway.
When Ed and Dee pulled over, I took a risk to take their offer. I trusted that my
car would safely make its way to Terry's garage.
I know it now as meaningful coincidence. For all of us, it's just a spark plug away.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tom Terez is the founder of InnerBest.com, BetterWorkplaceNow.com,
and TomTerez.com. His talks and workshops are all about helping individuals
and organizations achieve their very best. Click here to send Tom a note.
Copyright 2007 Tom Terez. |
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