Dying Man, Dead Car, Tow Trucks & PR

The day began strangely. I'm driving from my suburban home to downtown Dallas. My reliable, late-model Honda is always reliable. Always. Right?

I turn on to Cole Street, accelerate and suddenly, vvvrizzzzz .... No power. Just coasting. Panic stricken, I flash my eyes to the gas gauge. Empty. Ug. I veer to the right lane and turn on the emergency blinkers, and put the car in park. I try to start it. It just chugs. Again. Chug. Again. Chug. GGrrrrr. Who do I know near downtown that can help me? I need gas. And a gas can. Just yards away is Dallas' busiest Starbucks. Well, at least I'm near a Starbucks. I've got 15 minutes before my meeting with an agency principal begins. I think fast and call Person A for help. Voicemail. Person B. Voicemail. Person C. It's ringing! "David, my God, thank God, you answered! Huh? Your office is on Travis Walk, right ... What? Oh...Mmmm. Uh, OK. Well, enjoy yourself ... In Boston ..." Nice. Then it flashed through my mind. Could I? Should I? ... I did. I called an ex-employer that had offices just blocks away. First, I tried Jeff. Voicemail. I called the main number. Voicemail. Then I remembered his phone. His cellphone. **Ring** **Ring*** "Uh...Neil, uh, Roy G. Miller, you on your way into work...I need a favor..." Yep, I called Neil, the guy who handles the tech accounts at one of Dallas' largest independent PR agencies in Dallas, Michael A. Burns & Associates Inc./PR, www.mbapr.com. Neil is the guy who works the tech accounts--some of the same ones I worked years ago when I was there. Whoa. Wow. Uh, weird, huh ...

Strange day. Stranger events. I'm still on the phone with Neil. He replies, 'Yeah Roy, where are you? Where?! ... Really?! Look to your right Roy. I'm right here, next to the Hummer. I'm in traffic, driving in. Right here! Get in!"

Unbelievable. Neil was less than 15 yards from me when I called him. Strange.

Within 30 seconds of my call to Neil, I'm sitting in his car, driving down Oak Lawn and Lemmon, looking for gas and a gas can. Finally, I get the gas, he drives me back to my Honda, and we say our good-byes. I thank him for being today's Good Samaritan. It takes too long for me to figure out the gas can and the multi-piece, upside-down-turn-it-around nozzle. I figure it out and shove the can nozzle into my car's gas tank. It seems my Honda is ravaged with thirst as it guzzles and gozzles the gas. Done. Now I'm in business. I jump in the car, turn off the blinking lights, insert the key and turn. Not a sound. Not a chirp. No engine turning over. Nada. I try again. Bad sign. Clickety is all I get. Forget the gas and empty gas tank. Something's REALLY wrong now. What the hell? I call my insurance company. They get me a tow truck. An hour later, it shows up. It loads my car, I jump in the truck with the driver. We get going. It's like riding in a rickety roller coaster on wooden tracks. The fillings in my teeth are still vibrating. We're about to get on U.S. 75 when the truck jerks, coughs and loses power. The driver's perplexed, veers off the road, parks, jumps out and makes sure everything is OK. Done. He jumps back in. Starts up the truck. Ditto. No acceleration. Just grunting and heaving...The truck, that is. Strange. We pull off the 75 service road. He calls tow truck #2. Within 15 minutes, we're back on the road. My Honda's being carried by truck #2 and I'm sitting in rickety roller-coaster #2. We drive from CityPlace to Honda Cars of McKinney--a drive that takes long enough for me to know the driver's family tree, name of his goldfish and how many times he's won the Wienerschnitzel chili dog challenge in his east Texas hometown. Great. While hauling down I75 at a tow-truck pace (that's slow, fyi), we see an ambulance heading the other direction. I make a comment that the day could be worse--I could be laying flat, in the back of an ambulance. Seconds later, we see a police car, lights blazing. Then brake lights ahead. And firetrucks in the middle of the road. Great. More delays. As we approach, the smoke clears (except for the tow truck exhaust) and I see life and death in action. The driver is still droning about chili dogs. Just two lanes away, there lays a lifeless man on the side of the road. He's unconscious, on his back, his head cocked back, mouth gaping open. Shirt tore wide open, the man has long, stringy gray hair that slaps against the side of his face every time the man's chest is punched by the paramedic kneeling by him. CPR, high throttle.

The man is grey and lifeless. In seconds, my mind races with the reality of seeing a person teeter on the edge of life and death, breathing or choking, recovering or eternally resting. Did he get another chance, or did it end, in minutes, in front of commuting thousands on the side of a highway?

Strange, indeed.

So, while writing a news release and finishing up brochure copy--while sitting in the Service Center of the Honda dealership--I can't stop thinking about My Life and my chosen career as PR entrepreneur and sole proprietor.

I reflect on something I say to people who wonder what I do for a living. I usually end up saying that "In PR, no two days are ever the same." Today, strangeness ruled. It definitely was not routine.

PR is never the same. Nor is life. In the midst of a day that involved stalling out, getting towed (twice), driving around Dallas with my ex-employer and then seeing a man shuttle between "what is" and "what is to come" reminded me that deadlines aren't all that important. What I "do" isn't important. What I am does matter.

And you?

-R