Thank goodness for the red light, the Don’t Walk signal, and my stretch pants that made it easy to retrieve my phone from my left front pants pocket. And for my friend Steve, who last year introduced me to the Ventures’ Christmas Album.

That was playing on my car stereo system via Spotify on the corner of State and Water, two blocks from our house. To believe my story, you need to understand my windows were up

I will also admit to you that I know the lady poised on the pedestrian crosswalk. She’s the unknowing star of this story. But I hadn’t talked with her since last summer, when she told Rebecca and me in the grocery store that a dog had bitten her outside Ace Hardware, across the street.

I do indeed know her husband, although, at the moment, I can’t remember his name. It’ll come to me by the end of the day. He retired from teaching high school about twenty years ago—a nice guy who segued from teaching into counter work at our local public library. I’d go to him when I couldn’t get the printer to work.

You must believe me when I tell you he had nothing to do with the incident I am about to recount. Cross my heart and hope to die.

When I backed my Subaru Forester out of the garage on my way to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of our favorite gin, Plymouth, I was feeling a bit down for two reasons. Normally, I’d walk the five blocks, but not on this day because of a thin coating of ice on the sidewalks that hadn’t yet been cleared.

Plus, Plymouth puts a seal on its twist cap that, every week, reminds me of what my doctor said at my last Medicare check-up: ‘We lose 1% of our muscle strength every year after fifty.’ That’s 25% for me. It’s enough to drive me to drink.

The 1964 Beach Boys Christmas album was playing as I reversed my car onto Williams Street. Subaru makes me wait to change albums until I shift to drive. As you can tell from the album photo, the harmonious quintet and Christmas were an odd mix.

Not so with The Ventures, which I loaded once I regained control of my car’s entertainment system. By the time I got to the intersection where this story began, the twangy quartet was one minute into its first instrumental, Sleigh Ride.

As I looked to my right, the crosswalk lady was moving her wrists and knees, yes, not arms and legs, in perfect synch to the Mosrite guitar sound reverberating through my car’s interior. You can read about the Venture’s phenomenal sound here.

For a perfect instant, on a street corner in middle America, the universe aligned.

A joyful moment.