A TERRIBLE DAY

It was mid 1968. At that time we lived in Voorschoten in de Papenlaan, in a lovely house. At the age of 35 I passed for my driving license after 3 trials and made it a habit to take my now ex husband once a week to his work at the Waal harbour or another harbour so I could use the car for the rest of the day, mostly to run errands for the kids or sometimes to take them on a shopping spree. At half past five I drove back to Rotterdam to pick up my ex, there were no traffic jams then. Often one or two of the kids came along, also that day my daughter Arlette and her friend Wilma. Before driving to Rotterdam we went to Wassenaar to do one more errand and I saw a hitchhiker wanting to go to Rotterdam. I said: okay, get in, but you have to be patient because before driving to Rotterdam we first have to do a couple of things. That is no problem Madam, said the nice and very shy young man of about 23 years. For an hour he accompanied us everywhere, also to our house in Voorschoten. He sat sweet and perfectly still and let it all come over him, the loud music, the rush and our running to and fro. Finally we were on our way to Rotterdam. He didn’t want anything to eat or drink, although I offered it several times to him. Just as we came on the highway, bang, a flat tire. The young man immediately lamented that he couldn’t help me, as he didn’t know how to assist, he had nothing with cars. Furthermore he said: I play the piano and I am very careful with my hands. I said: dear boy, don’t worry, I can do anything and we all stepped out of the car. Anyway, mother went to work. In those days I was fashionably dressed, very hip, high-heeled boots. Unfortunately that was not the right clothing for the job, but I succeeded. The tire was replaced. The spectators were clearly relieved. Then I tried getting the hup cap back in place hitting it with my hands, which failed, it fell off again and again. Slightly irritated I sat on my rear end, pulled up one leg and leaned backwards so I could give it a smack with my high heel. At the moment I darted out, the silent young man suddenly put his hand on the wheel cover too keep it in place and got my whole heel in his hand. I screamed, he screamed and the girls screamed. Dancing with pain, he kept his hand in his other hand and walked whimpering around. I screamed: how can you be so stupid, let me see. His hand was getting thicker and swelled up and he was white as a sheet of the pain. I said: we go to the hospital straight away. But he cried: no madam, I want to go home. In Rotterdam sitting silently with his swollen hand across his chest, it was a very sad situation, the poor boy sufferd terribly but insisted that he did not want to go to the hospital. He directed me straight to the street where he lived. Whatever I tried, all he wanted was to go home and lamented about playing the piano. When he got out, he turned around and said: thank you very much for the lift. I said: my dear boy, go to the doctor soon and then he was gone into the street to his house.
Every year this incident comes sometimes suddenly to my mind,I than hope every thing is allright with him, although it was very serious. This is something you will never forget. I hope he is doing well and hope that he can still play the piano.
Dinkie