I’m good at making excuses. I came up with a new one every time the idea of returning to college presented itself. I had enrolled in a university at 21 but later quit. As the years passed, I regretted not finishing my English degree. But I always comforted myself with excuses — I have three little ones who need me at home. I’m busy with the children’s school activities. I can’t go back to school at 50. Old dogs can’t learn new tricks.

The truth was that I was just plain scared to go back to school. What if I needed remedial (补习的) courses? What if a professor called attention to me? What if I walked into a classroom and there was nowhere to sit? What if I stood out in a sea of young faces?

After my children finished college, they insisted it was my turn, so I called Dalton State College and set up a time to take the Compass Test to see if I needed remedial courses. The next day, when I was on the highway heading there, Rachel, my middle child called. When she learned my destination, I heard the pride in her voice. “You’ve got this, Mama!”

That was all it took. Hot tears tumbled down my cheeks as she spoke words of encouragement to me. It turned out that I scored high on the English test but would need to take two remedial courses for the math section. But I didn’t care. After decades of excuses, I’d finally thrown my leg over the high fence of fear. I couldn’t wait to register for classes.

My first course was U. S. History. I’ve never been good with dates, but the professor calmed my nerves. “I don’t care about dates, but I expect you to know the names of significant individuals. For instance, who was the first person to set foot on the moon?”

“Neil Armstrong,” chorused several students.

“Does anyone know when that event took place?”

My heart leapt at the question, because I was celebrating my fifteenth birthday on that day!

Tawny Nelson is a single mother of four sweet little girls aged 9, 5, 2, and one year old. It’s not easy to take care of the girls all on her own. Recently, she shared a story with Frank Somerville, a news anchor for KTVU News in California. He was so moved by her story that he shared it on his Facebook page.

Tawny’s story opened with her visiting the grocery store. It was a rainy and miserable day and by the time she got all the girls loaded in the truck and ready to head home, it was dark and pouring down. When she tried to start her truck, it wouldn’t start. With no one to call, Tawny turned to ask strangers for help to charge her truck. Hours passed and so did at least twenty people. They all ignored her. Tired and hungry, her daughters began to act out. Tawny was filled with tears when someone knocked on her passenger window.

Somerville writes, “I swear I got chills when I read what happened next.” And you will do the same when you read Tawny’s story：

I am the single mother of four absolutely beautiful little girls. They are 9, 5, 2, and one year old. And things have been particularly rough since my ex left. Our truck had a flat tire and I had to inflate it constantly. The driver side window motor died. And I needed a new belt. The truck was a mess. And we didn’t drive anywhere unless we had to. Well, the other day we desperately needed to go to the store. So we loaded up and drove to the Winn Dixie about 9 blocks away. When we got out of the store it was far after dark. And it was raining heavily. I loaded my kids and groceries into the truck.

My battery was dead.

I was crying when a gentleman stopped and offered to help me.

When I was in high school, there was nothing I loved more than going bowling—and no place I’d rather be than Al’s Kingpin Lanes. That place was great: Friday 5-dollar foot-long hot dogs with all the toppings, old arcade (拱廊)cabinets in the back that had classics like Galaga, and always playing 1940s jazz and 1950s rockabilly music. I got so obsessed with bowling that I even managed to convince my high school to start a varsity (校队)and junior varsity bowling sports club.

During my high school years, from freshman to junior year, starting and leading my school’s bowling club really helped me to come out of my shell. As time went on, our varsity team began winning local and even state tournaments. Soon enough, our school was getting bowling trophies(奖杯)to go alongside the trophies for more traditional sports like swimming and track and field. These victories not only boosted my popularity but also allowed me to form meaningful connections along the way! Life was great back then.

Still, the bowling memory that really stuck out to me was when I met Leroy. Although Leroy happened to go to the same high school as I did, we didn’t really cross paths that much. I was already a junior by then, and as I found out later, he was still a young freshman. The strange thing about it, though, was how he would always hang out in the back, nervously watching everyone else play. Despite his regular presence, he seemed too nervous and shy to play or even talk with others.

Then, one evening while I was out with my friends at Kingpin Lanes, something remarkable happened. I witnessed Leroy actually picking up a bowling ball for the first time. His shoes were untied, he struggled to lift even the lightest ball up, and with each throw, the ball ended up in the gutter lane(边沟), resulting in straight zeroes across the board.

That’s when I finally made my way over to say hi to Leroy.

And that was the beginning of our friendship.

As I was driving to the airport last week the odometer(里程表) on my truck rotated to 100,000 kilometers. This led me to pause and think about selling the truck and buying a new one, but it also made me think about all the life I’d lived in this truck, and how my bulldog had accompanied me in it, leaving me hesitating about selling it.

When I returned to Canada after nine years overseas, what better way could I fit in with and immerse in rural culture than by buying a pickup?

The day I rolled out of the dealer(经销商) and hit the first gravel road(碎石马路) in my Toyota Tacoma was exciting, until I got very nervous as rocks hit my new purchase. But all that quickly evaporated when I received my first call through the truck’s Bluetooth phone. It was the doctor, to say that my Dad was hospitalized in a remote location. I immediately followed the truck’s GPS and got there quickly and safely. I was with Dad for his last two days. And so the first memories of my truck are images carved in my heart.

As the kilometers of my life rolled on, Lyon, my bulldog who came back to Canada with me from France, claimed the back seat as an area belonging only to her. It didn’t matter how short or long the trip was, she stared at me in the review mirror all the time. Most often, I would arrive at our destination and Lyon would stay in the back seat, bathed in the sun with the door open, knowing I would return. There was an overwhelming sense of comfort between us in that truck.

In the early days of truck ownership, I panicked at how dirty it became and any dent(凹痕) it put on. I soon realized, though, that it was part of the truck’s character. Now I look at every dent and recall the story or adventure that put them there. I began to see it as character-building, much like wrinkles appearing on my face. The truck was simply aging gracefully and began, like humans, to display its experience and wisdom.

I don’t think a vehicle is just for travelling from place to place.

But as I approached the car dealer, I stopped.