Spliff Tales from the Jelly Jar: Smoking with a Tow Truck Driver

On a winter evening before the holidays, my girl Sarah Rose and I were determined to achieve our dancing goals. We adorned ourselves, rolled up a few joints, and built a vibe at my place.

On our way to Pam’s Jam later that evening, the airbag light started blinking in my ride. As we passed through a major city intersection just off the highway, the car started losing momentum. A loud mechanical noise thumped in the back and the car sputtered, then shut off.

It was an epic battle to push the car backwards—uphill—and onto a side street. With a little help from some innocent bystanders, we got the car into the parking lot of bead store that went out of business. We cleaned our hands of the car grease and partied on into the night, grooving our way into the holidays. After the New Year, I went back to retrieve my car.

I showed up at the bead store after 10 days, and, miraculously, my car hadn’t been towed! I called AAA and ordered a tow truck. After waiting a few hours, I was cold and bothered. Finally, the dude showed up, and I said to myself: I have to sit in this guy’s truck for the next 45 minutes in traffic. He’s just doing his job, so there’s no reason to be angry with him for being hours late.

Deliberately choosing to make the best of this situation, I pulled off my vape pen and watched, mesmerized, as he configured the car on the back of the truck. When all was ready to go, he motioned for me to move it along. I hopped in the cab and opened my mind to this stranger. Turns out, he is a Pakistani immigrant.

“I heard weed grows wild in Pakistan,” I said. “What’s that like?”

“Yeah, it’s just a like a weed,” Ali, the driver, answered, “and it’s everywhere.” He said no one even needs weed because they have hash (made from hemp)—and it’s cheap. Ali’s face changed, smiling with nostalgia. “I miss my country, but can’t go back because there’s too much trouble for me there.”

“Luckily, there was a weed store across the street from the bead store,” I offered, telling him how my car broke down. We smoked a joint together.

We discovered that we were Virgos within one year of each other. He offered to give me a ride home after dropping my broken car at the mechanic, and sent me away with a little vaporizer pen that you fill with ground marijuana.

With a stoned, compassionate approach to a broken-down car fiasco, I found a tie to this stranger. He and I connected, formed a special bond. With an open mind and a sativa blend, we created a shared understanding. Everyone on the planet has something in common, and sometimes it takes a magical plant to keep that in mind. As it did this day, an ancestral, healing plant weaves a better world for us.

Now, if the people who run the government could approach all situations with this basic earthly humanity, imagine the freedom that would spread! Instead of a stuffy cabinet discussion, they should take those conversations outdoors and share a joint. What’s the worst that could happen—munchies and a giggle fest?