This car has been parked in front of the grass near my house where I take Lola out to pee and poop. A few days ago, as Lola and I were at the grass, a haggard old lady came out and stood right in front of me in a super awkward fashion. After the first 10 seconds of her standing in front of me and not having any inclination to pet Lola, I could tell she was agitated at something. I asked, “Can I help you?”

In what appeared to be an eastern European thick accent, she responded, “Did you take my gas?”

I was astonished. “What? I’m sorry, your gas?”

She continued heavily, “Yeaaas, somebody took the gas out of my car and I just found out! My car couldn’t start and I just filled it up yesterday!”

I saw what had happened – she thought that someone had siphoned the fuel out of her car. “Did you see anyone who might take my gas?” she asked. I told her I hadn’t, and mentioned that this was a horrible thing, and that I’d be on the lookout for people trying to steal her gas.

That was the end of it, or so I thought.

Today, I’m back at that same grass patch, and I see the same car parked there, same sad old lady. However this time, I could see that she was sitting inside the car, armed with a digital camera. She was taking a picture of me with this camera. I walked up to the car and knocked on the window.

She ignored me like I was some hobo weirdo.

So then I proceeded to whip out my digital camera too and take pics of her as well.

 

It’s hard to see the person through the reflection of the window, but if you were there in person, you’d see an extremely mad old woman.

After this picture, I hopped into my car and drove up to her on my way out. She had gotten out of the car, was looking around, and clearly angry at the world. We made eye contact, and I shook my head in sad dismay as I drove off.

What made me sad was that this lady, after I offered to help keep a friendly eye out, clearly thought that I was a potential culprit in her fuel heist. I wondered what kind of courses of events throughout this sad woman’s life had caused her to have this kind of perspective. I wondered what would cause her to think 1) I was a potential culprit, 2) why she would be so distraught over a few gallons of fuel, and 3) what would make her think I would want her fuel when she knows I live right next door. I was taken aback by the sight of her shaky hand taking a digital photo of me through the windshield of her car.

Her face was the visage of one who had lived a life with a significant amount of hatred. Her eyes were heavy with mistrust, frustration, and bitterness. I could tell she had gone through quite a bit of messed up things in her life. Happiness seemed to be far from her vocabulary. Her body language suggested a final level of jadedness in life.

And then some kids came through and siphoned fuel out of her car.

A part of me still wants to help her, but that creepy photo had been holding me back. Will she tell the police that this photo is the fuel bandit?

To be dealing with these kinds of petty issues at an old age is some place I want to be far far far far from when I am her age someday.

I hope she finds her thief and gets her fuel back.