On a Monday, near dusk, I was sitting at a traffic light, twenty feet from a major intersection. I noticed that the lights in the car had turned off, and thought the car needed to be restarted. This was a mistake, for the engine refused to start up again. (Note: If you have car trouble don’t take the key out of the ignition until you are safely home or off road.) There, I sat in a dead Matty’s mobile, a 14 year old white Suzuki Alto with Matty’s insignia and telephone number posted on the side doors and trunk. I did not have a phone or much knowledge of the Japanese language and there were cars backed far behind and zipping by on both sides.
Quickly, I moved. I put on the parking lights, got out, kindly motioned to the man behind me to pass and ran about fifty yards to a payphone. I called Mr. Kyokuta and he told me he would meet me in twenty minutes. In the mean time, I flagged down a kind Japanese gentleman and he turned the wheel, as I pushed the car to the side of the road.
Mr. Kyokuta arrived, restarted the battery and led me home. About forty feet in front of Oppama Station’s major intersection, the car died again. I got out of the car and motioned to Mr. Kyokuta. Without batting an eye, he jumped out of the car with his five foot and 77 year old body and thick white beard. He pulled out a ten foot metal chain, hooked his mini white SUV to the Matty’s mobile and began towing.
As he towed I sat in the driver’s seat with my hands on the wheel and my foot near the brake. Such was not easy because the cars needed to traverse thin roads a well trafficked highway and a 360 degree turn up the steep foot of Takatori Mountain. I needed intense concentration to keep from crashing into Mr. Kyokuta’s back or hitting something off road.
We safely arrived at the office and parked the car in the lot. I thanked Mr. Kyokuta and told him I would buy him a beer sometime. He laughed and we parted for the evening.
(The next day the newer and larger Suzuki Alto was again available for driving.)
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