Behind the wheel

An Uzbek immigrant, continually working on practicing his English-speaking ability, whose daughter is going to graduate from Cambridge. A working-class father who had to give up his love of making pizza in order to make more money. A Florida transplant who is new to the Cincinnati area and who has a taste for early aughts emo/alt-rock, from around the time she was born. A fellow nurse who has worked decades in healthcare, and has many experiences under her belt. A laid back man with a taste for reggae-esque Christian praise music.

I do miss my car. It’s been a week since it got towed to the dealership. My clutch bit the dust as I was getting off the highway—thankfully I was still in gear, and was able to get it into a nearby Wawa and get it parked.

As much as independence is afforded by driving oneself around, I have discovered the opportunity for human connection by using ride-sharing. When I got into the car with the Uzbek man behind the wheel, I hadn’t intended to use the ride time to work for chatting—I wanted to book a plane flight and take care of personal matters. But, I put aside my personal preferences and chatted with this man for about 25 minutes. Just simple, basic chitchat. I discerned after a few minutes that this dialogue was more than serving the purpose of basic pleasantries. Even though he had been in the United States for roughly fifteen years, his grasp on English wasn’t where he wanted it to be. And having spent years in volunteer work with refugee and immigrant communities, I knew the struggle that many of the middle-aged and older ones in the immigrant community have with learning English. It was good practice, and I was happy to aid him.

With so much of our collective time being spent with our eyes fixed on screens, “connecting” with people via the internet, how easy it is to forget the human connection. You never know what story someone has to tell, and how your exchange can enlighten you and strengthen you.

Done and done.