We run down Moreland into the neon light

My truck needed a part. Of all things, it wasn't the windshield wiper fluid, or the power seats-- it wasn't something I could have done without for a few days. It was the switch that turned my brake lights on when I stopped. Without it, you wouldn't know I was slowing down until you almost hit the back of my truck.

It was after work yesterday and I was driving very cautiously to the parts place to buy a new switch. Unfortunately, the only one I knew of was on Moreland Avenue.

This is where you shudder.

Even if you've lived outside of Atlanta, you've still heard of Moreland Avenue, and you know it's bad-- like baaaaaaaaad. Moreland Avenue has been featured in rap songs such as "Murder One:"

"Moreland Ave. on a hot summer night, Pete wanted to kill someone and do it tonight...Looked for a passed out bum and they found one, Pete slit his throat just for fun/ The bum went running through the bushes and weeds, They held his arms and made him bleed..."

Yeah, so that's Moreland Avenue.

I found the Advance Auto Parts: it was still painted bright yellow from the old days. When they redesigned the stores, the Moreland Avenue Advance Auto Parts was obviously not a candidate for the upgrade. The entire store and parking lot was surrounded by a 10-foot chained link fence... with barbed wire winding across the top. Never seen that at an Advance Auto Parts before.

Enter me, perhaps the whitest girl ever. You know when Chappelle puts on whiteface on Chappelle's Show? That's me. I ran inside and got the part I needed for my truck. I walked back out into the parking lot and looked both ways-- I really didn't want to drive home without brake lights, so I needed to go ahead and put the part on. Here. In this parking lot. In this neighborhood.

The switch is located by the brake pedal. I opened the car door, put my purse on the seat, and laid down on the floor of the driver's seat with my legs hanging out of the truck. The steering column prevented me from seeing anything approaching. Great, I thought, I'm going to get mugged in this parking lot and I'm going to be trapped under my own truck while he does it.

"What's wrong with your car?"

See, I didn't even hear him approach. I climbed out from under the driver's seat. A homeless looking man in a red t-shirt and black jeans and holding a new black backpack was staring at me.

"I'm, um, trying to replace the stoplight switch," I smiled nervously and climbed back under the steering column, hoping that if I just went back to my work, he'd go away.

"Your brake lights are on! Now they're off. They're on!" He's trying to help. By this time I disconnected the old switch so that the lights wouldn't come on at all, but I couldn't get the damn part off because of this wire.

After a few minutes of brake silence, the homeless man shuffled forward a few steps, "You need help?"

I didn't want to admit it, but I truly did. I couldn't get the part off the wire. I got out of the truck and grabbed my purse--that also had my keys in it--off the seat. I stood by the side of my truck while he climbed in. I tried not to look nervous, but I wear my emotions on my face; I can't hide them.

An old black man crossed the street and entered the Advance Auto Parts gate. He's in a gray suit with 70's style aviator shades dangling around his neck, except the shades were bright orange. He was wearing one of those old man driving hats and carrying a brown paper bag. Inside the bag was a French baguette among a few other groceries. He had a long face and gray mustache that reminded me of an old Richard Pryor.

He walked right up to me, looked me up and down, and stopped and watched. The homeless man shouted from in my truck, "This is connected by a ____ wire!"

"What does that mean?" I hollered back.

The old man took a step forward and said in a raspy voice, "That means it's bent and tied around the part."

The homeless man got out of the truck and ran over to wear he laid his backpack down. He opened it up and pulled out a wrench of some sort.

Unbelievable, I thought. Who knew a homeless man would carry around a wrench? Then I thought, My mother would absolutely kill me if she knew I was on Moreland Avenue, having a homeless man work on my truck. I think her heart just might explode from it- which I still believe is true.

He ducked back under the steering column and got to work. The old man looked in his bag of groceries, pulled out a smaller paper bag, and walked over next to the curb where the homeless man was tooling around in my truck. He set the bag down, and walked away, disappearing down the street. I have no idea if they knew each other or not.

Just then, my brake lights flashed on. It became my turn, "They're on! Now they're off. They're on!"

The homeless man sat on my running boards and used his hand to push down the brake pedal. My lights came on and off with his movements. "They're fixed!" I cried. He looked extremely proud of himself and it was only then I wondered if he knew anything about cars or not.

I had previously pulled a couple of bills out of my wallet so I wouldn't have to open it in front of him. He got up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and walked towards me. I stuck the bills out. "Thank you," I said.

He took the bills and saw I handed him $2. I didn't know what the going rate was for part installation by the homeless.

"I need $11," he said.

I must have looked confused or frightened because I knew I didn't have $11 on me.

"I'm trying to get home to Conyers," he explained. "And I'm doing small work to try to get home." He paused, "Me and my son."

I hadn't seen a little boy around, only the small paper bag now in his hands. I didn't care what his reasons were, I just didn't want him to get upset with me. I opened my wallet and prayed he couldn't read the "Ralph Lauren" stamped in the leather. I pulled out the remaining $2 and handed it to him.

"That's all I have," I said and I showed him there were no more bills in the wallet, probably one of the dumber things I've done.

"That's okay, thank you."

I got in my truck and pulled the hell out of Moreland Avenue. Meantime, the homeless man began walking down the street, whistling, and tossing my old car part in the air and catching it again.