Dear Mr. Supreme Jackwagon:

You know who you are.

You’re the guy who just drove past me and four other people who were trying to get a car unstuck at the entrance to a side street right off of 17th Avenue South, Fargo.

In blizzard conditions.

You’re the guy who did not stop to help. You’re the guy who, instead, took the time to lower your power driver’s side window and yell, in a menacing voice as you drove on by, “Hey, you can’t just park your cars in the middle of the street!”

That was about an hour ago. I’m sure you’re home now, warmed by the thought that you did a great public service by apprising us idiots of what is not acceptable on city streets.

In blizzard conditions.

Just to let you know, we got the car out. Took some doing. Lots of patience, with a couple of us taking turns shoveling, then all four of us pushing while the driver put it in forward and reverse, forward and reverse, forward and reverse. Rockin’ it.

Finally we got the sedan backed out into 17th, where the road was clear enough for the low-riding vehicle to avoid being high centered while gaining some traction.

It’s all good. Me and the two other guys who stopped to help the driver and his passenger are no worse for wear. Cold toes, maybe, but otherwise O.K. Fortunately, no one was struck by a car traveling 17th, like yours.

By the way, a police cruiser passed just a couple of minutes before your smiling face showed up; apparently the officer didn’t have any issues with what was happening and where me and one of the other guys had pulled our vehicles over to the side of the road, hazard lights blinking.

Fargo’s finest drove right on by. Probably saw it as a neighbor helping neighbor thing and figured everything was in hand. No reason to stop, he would’ve thought, or roll down his window to holler at us. No, I’m thinking that officer made allowances for the extreme, unusual circumstances.

Out there in the worsening blizzard conditions.

Speaking of your smiling face. I got a good look. I don’t think you saw me right away; the only person close to the road was the passenger of the stuck car.

Oh, did I mention she was black? Driver, too. But I’m thinking maybe you already knew that. Not that she was the stuck car’s passenger, but that she was black.

I’m thinking maybe that’s why you yelled. Not because cars where stopped on the side of 17th with their hazards on, so you and a few others had to slow down, but because you saw someone different than you doing something out of the ordinary.

I can’t help but wonder…

Anyway, like I said, your mug was crystal clear. I know who you are. You live in my neighborhood. We’ve exchanged friendly greetings a time or two. I thought you were probably a decent person.

Never mind that…

Have a pleasant evening, Jackwagon. Nestle in. Enjoy the safety and security of your snug, smug, little home. Oh, and by the way, Happy Freakin’ New Year.

Pray you don’t get stuck yourself. But if you do, I’m sure some good people will stop to help.

Even in blizzard conditions.


Personal logo of Martin C. Fredricks IV

Martin C. Fredricks IV

Martin C. “Red” Fredricks IV here. I’m husband to an amazing woman who is also my best friend, dad to three outstanding kids, Fargoan (North Dakota, that is), proud introvert, veteran messaging strategist/copywriter, and big-time reader. As they say, if you're gonna write good stuff, you have to read good stuff. A ginger, too - ergo the "Red" - although some of it's going white. Cinnamon-Sugar, I call it. Tattooed to boot; seven so far. At age 54, I'm stilling crankin' AC/DC & Metallica, but now and again I spin some Eric Church and Black Uhuru, too. I love hanging out with my (much) better half, spending time with our kids, writing, hiking, riding my mountain bike and reading.


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