Jared entered the store while I was in the back looking at the Transmission Fluids. I do not know that his name was Jared, just as I do not know that the names of the store’s two sales staff were Hank and Mike, but it will do for the telling of this tale.

I first noticed Jared as I was standing in front of the counter waiting to check out. He was asking after a part for his car. I stared at the candy lined up in racks against the front of the counter (vaguely wondering what candy had to do with auto parts), and dismissed each brightly packaged bar as containing sugars, chemicals, colorings and preservatives.

Hank, the larger, and stockier of the two sales assistants asked Jared, “What year is it”?

Both Hank and Mike looked like mechanics. The types of blokes that had project cars cluttering up their garages and when they were not covered in grease they were probably eating chips and salsa watching NASCAR on television, washing down the whole experience with a six pack of Bud.

Jared, an African American wearing a sharp set of trousers and shirt, looked guarded when confronted with that question … were these people trying to play a joke on him?

Jared, trying not to sound foolish but sound confident at the same time tentatively ventured, “It’s two thousand and seven… of course.”

A smile crossed my face as Mike came over to serve me.

“No, no, what year is your car?”

“What year is it?”

“Yeah, your car, what year is your car?”

I handed over my credit card.

“Ummm…”

“What year was your car made?”

I signed my receipt, grinning privately.

“Oh, I honestly have no idea.”

I glanced to my left. Hank was showing the utmost patience and Jared looked decidedly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Well, let’s go have a look…” Hank gestured out to the parking lot in front of the store.

“Oh, my car is at home”

I walked out of the store with my transmission fluid and smiled. Jared reminded me of myself. Until a few years ago, I really had not known that much about cars. I sympathized with Jared and at the same time, the humor of the situation only served to remind me how far I had come.

As I left the store, I started to walk home as I had left my car there too. Kudos to you Jared, for leaving it when you thought it may not wise to drive. Next time you will know to check for the “year of your car.” Small steps man, small steps.