Why I live in Bath

by Gina Hamilton
Coastal Journal editor

It had been a bad day. I had just discovered that my so-called bank had stolen a goodly quantity of my hard-earned money, and my car was leaking something mysterious.

It will soon be time, I fear, to retire the great white hope and buy something reliable and energy efficient and if I am indeed lucky, the thing will have a parking brake, for a while anyway.

But I had an appointment to keep, so I left a bit early and headed on downstairs. Somehow, having left my handbag in Chris’ newish car, I had to stop at home to pick it up before continuing on.

And of course, my car wouldn’t start.

So, having owned cars like this most of my life, I did what is natural to me and those like me, and popstarted it by rolling slightly downhill. It started, but the engine was sounding a bit rough, so I planned to leave it idling while I dashed in, picked up my bag and dashed back out.

But without a parking brake, even the small incline at Turning Tide Cottage was beyond my car’s capability. So Chris came out with my bag and I continued on my way.

About two and a half blocks later, the car died at a perfectly flat, level place ... the corner of Middle and Oak. No popstarting allowed here.

And it was there I realized why I live in Bath.

Not one, but five individuals stopped to help. I was unable to locate my cell phone initially, so a woman allowed me to use hers. For as long as it took, which seemed like forever. Her name was Nina, and we were kindred spirits ... we both had vehicles that let us down with some regularity.

The folks in the house on the corner passed by and told me they’d be back to help. A gentleman offered to help me move my car to the kerb. So did a youngster with a bottle green bike. When the folks from the house across the street came back, they told me to just knock on the door if I needed anything.

I am sorry that I didn’t get the rest of these folks’ names ... they certainly should know that they turned what could have been a rotten afternoon around and made me realize why I love this town more than any other.

By the time the tow truck showed up and took my car, once again, to the shop, I was smiling. I shouldered my briefcase ... which is really too heavy and needs to be emptied out a bit ... and my swimming bag, and walked home almost laughing in the joy of a gorgeous autumn afternoon.

On a beautiful New England street, in the town that I love.

Yes, the problems of having an unreliable car and a felonious bank and missing an appointment would remain. But somehow, they ended up on the back burner on that Friday afternoon ... minor irritations in a world where people stop to help a neighbor in distress.

Thank you all. For everything.