What About Incomplete Good Deeds?

Heading to Starbucks for some writing, I turned on to Fernando Valley Road. It was one of those four lane roads where the city speed limit is upped to fifty. Across the median, I saw an old man on foot. Behind him a blue van sat defeated on the shoulder. The man had started down the steep decline, I'd just come up. Fernando Valley Road isn't mountainous but it's full of hills that I'd wish on no man, especially in ninety degree weather.

I tossed all the fast food trash on my passenger seat into the back seat and flipped a bitch at the next light despite the no U-turn sign. Whatever, like any good American, I'm a rebel when I want to be.

Only when I traveled the eighth of a mile back to the van, it had disappeared as had the man. I looked ahead and checked the grassy ravine on the right. Not one sign of either. I shouldn't complain about almost doing a good deed but I'd broken a minor traffic law and was now heading away from my destination for no reason. This was one time where the thought didn't count.