Anyone who rides public transportation knows the feeling – watching the glowing red tail lights of the bus or train as it rides away without you, missing it by a matter of seconds. The feeling of disappointment hurts almost as much as the cold wind that slaps you across the face.
This happened to me Thursday night, coming back from Harlem. Fortunately for me, a Fed-Ex driver named Derrick saw my misfortune and honking his horn, motioned me to the door. He unlocked it and asked if I was trying to make the bus.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Hop in. I know what it’s like to miss the bus,” he said.
Now I’m not normally one to be accepting rides from strangers, especially ones offering me candy or willing to drive me to soccer practice, but on this cold evening I made an exception. Dressed in a blue hoodie and with white earbuds dangling from his ears, he introduced himself as Derrick.
“Matt.”
“Hold on,” Derrick said punching the accelerator.
The engine roared and the truck raced up the hill to the next stop. Derrick pulled the truck to a halt and I hopped out, slamming the door behind me. I waved to Derrick, thanking him as he peeled off around the corner.
At this moment the M104 pulled up and I hopped on board. That night Fed-Ex was delivering more than just packages – they were delivering Huisman too.
