Nonfiction

April 1987, Rt 95 Arizona north of Quartzsite

I just figured that I was a goner  -  it was around noon and I was hitch hiking north on Rt 95 in southwestern AZ and it was already above 100 degrees in the shade. But there was no shade anyway - only a hot sandy desert and an even hotter two lane asphalt state road.  And me with no hat.  And even worse - no traffic. None! The situation was dire,  and I was parched and without water.

“Lord,” I prayerfully said quietly to myself, “it looks hopeless.  It looks like a fatal case of heat stroke is a sure thing.  And very soon!”

I then pondered the miracles of modern civilization that we take for granted every day. Little things like outdoor drinking fountains. Like the ones in city parks. Cool delicious clear water at your finger tips. And popsicles  -  amazing popsicles!  The things we take for granted!

“Please God,”  I mused while standing on the shoulder of the road and facing the simmering asphalt, 

“please let me see one of those miracles one last time. Please let me see one of modern civilizations everyday taken-for-granted miracles one last time. Please before I'm toast!  How about a nice water fountain?”

I then heard the unmistakable sound of a fossil fueled vehicle's engine coming from somewhere behind me.  I turned to see what was happening.

It was a tank.

One of those desert camouflaged ones.

All by itself.  It had suddenly came over the rise of one of the nearby sand dunes -  crossed the road right in front of me just to my left -  and then just as quickly disappeared over another scorching hot sand dune on the other side.

"Thank you , Lord.  Thank you.  That was funny!"  I said to myself,

"But  NOT  EXACTLY  the modern everyday miracle that I had in mind!"