Back on October 30, 2020, I published an anecdotal article about my rescuing a fallen public trash can in Gowanus. In that article, I posited a profound question: “If you do something heroic but don’t tell every person you know, did you do anything at all?” You may be able to infer from the fact I wrote an entire article about my bringing a fallen trash can upright that I fall in the tell everyone about your heroism camp (only for article purposes, not in real life). With that introduction out of the way, let me regale my reader friends with the story of the time (also known as “yesterday”) I rescued a snow-encumbered car in Brooklyn Heights.
It was the evening of January 28, 2026. I was walking along Garden Place in Brooklyn Heights. Garden Place is a pretty, short, one block street book-ended by Joralemon and State Streets, and running parallel to Hicks and Henry Streets. It has only featured in two previous New Leaf Journal articles, one being my October 2020 report on two fallen Stop Signs and the other being an inflatable Halloween pumpkin sighting in October 2024. I doubt my geography notes will mean much to readers who do not have some familiarity with the layout of Brooklyn Heights. But everyone can follow a map. See an Open Street Maps link showing Garden Place with a marker placed roughly where I committed a great act of heroism.
It snowed heavily in Brooklyn Heights on Sunday, January 25, 2026, and it the temperature have stayed below freezing since. While most sidewalks have a clear path for walking (not that the walking conditions are great), many curbs and street corners have large snowbanks. Although the streets are clear enough of snow for cars to be able to drive, the same cannot be said of parking spots. This context brings us to the story proper.
As I was walking down Garden Place, I saw a woman – probably somewhere in the ballpark of my age – shoveling snow in the street. To be more precise, she was shoveling the snow around a parked car. I did not think much of it. I have seen other people with shovels out and about. As I came close to her, I heard her say something. It took me a second to realize that she was talking to me. She asked me for help, but help with what?
She was speaking quietly, which was why I almost missed that she was talking to me. Moreover, she was about 7-8 feet away from me, due in part to the fact that a snowbank somewhere in the neighborhood of four feet separated me on the sidewalk from her in the street. But once I understood that she was talking to me, I focused and heard her explain that she could not back her car out of her parking spot, adding context by noting that her car does not have four-wheel drive.
Now I am not an expert on cars, although I have followed NASCAR in the past. I usually try to avoid cars because they do not agree with me and my motion sickness. The only times I have been in a car in New York City in the last seven-eight years were to go to and from the airport. But let no one say I do not know about four-wheel drive! I will have readers know that I have watched both seasons of MF Ghost and most of the seasons of its anime street racing predecessor, Initial D. From those anime series I learned about four-wheel vs rear-wheel drive and how to not write romance and women characters. But I digress.
After explaining the situation, the lady wanted to know if I could push her car from the front while she tried to back it out. That was what I made out, at least. Of course, I was happy to help. I was merely on an evening walk, and the only place I had planned to go was not closing imminently.
Sure, just tell me what you need me to do.
Hero (me)
But I must confess that I would be lying if I did not have a moment’s hesitation. No, not about helping or whatever she wanted me to do with the car. I hesitated for a moment trying to find the best way to climb over the snowbank to get into the street. Garden Place had a formidable snow bank. Only the corners were partially clear, and as I indicated on the map I linked to previously; we were not close to a corner. I once fell with my foot on (or in?) a snowbank close to Garden Place, but that is a story for another article.
After I successfully climbed over the snowbank, the lady explained again that she wanted me to push the car from the front as she tried to back out of her parking spot. I like to think that I am strong enough for all normal purposes. In fact, I have a couple terrible carrying stuff stories to share with readers as part of my Winter 2026 Season project. But I will confess that I have never played any role in moving a car (behind the wheel or otherwise). But if she believed in me, I saw no reason why I should not believe in me. Moreover, she said that this method “usually” works (how does she often park in snowy places?), so I saw no reason to doubt her subject-matter expertise.
She was parallel parked on the right side of the street from my perspective of pushing the car from the right, so I made use of my considerable inductive reasoning skills (or so I like to think, at least) and positioned myself on the right side of her car, with the intention of pushing her car in the direction she would be pulling out of her spot.
Some people ask for help but do not help the help help them. Fortunately, this lady was helpful, explaining what she wanted me to do, cautioning me to be careful of the front wheel, and counting down before she started the car and needed me to push. It is good that she wanted to help me help her because as I previously indicated, I am not an expert in the area of pushing snow-stuck cars out of parking places.
The car started backing up and I was pushing. She then stopped. It seemed to me that she hadn’t made it. But I think she was trying to adjust the rear wheels. From the inside of my car, she said she wanted to try again. Once again, she counted down before moving, and I pushed. But alas, it seemed she had not made it. She leaned out of the driver’s side window to tell me that she was going to move forward before trying again. I understood and stepped back so that I would not be in the way when she moved forward. She moved forward slightly and I continued my life-long streak of not being hit by a car.
After she had moved forward she told me that she was ready to try again, so I resumed my position (I figured that I had been properly following her instructions based on the absence of corrections) and she counted down again. Was the third time the charm? It looked like she made more progress, but then she stopped. She leaned out of the window to tell me that she wanted to make sure she was not going to make contact with the car behind her. Fortunately, that was not an issue, she had room, and the back of her car was already clear of the neighboring car in any event. She was able to turn out of her spot and into the street without needing further assistance from your favorite hero.
I was unsure how much I had contributed to helping her move her car. I pushed, but cannot say that subjectively felt like I had much to do with the car moving. But before driving off she said I was a “lifesaver” and asked me if I had ever done that before. I responded honestly that I had never pushed a car before and do not know much about cars, but I was glad to have been able to help. With that, she thanked me again and drove off.
I considered the whole incident and decided that if an expert on extracting cars without four-wheel drive from the snow had praised my car rescuing technique, I must have been doing it correctly. With that, I have no doubt that I did an act of heroism. Perhaps my heroism was even greater than I know. Maybe I lifted the car from the snow? Well, we need not go into overdrive.
My take away from this story is that I am once again the hero and have completed my heroic duty by informing everyone who follows The New Leaf Journal that I am once again a hero. What should be your take-away. As a matter of policy, I do not tell people what they should take away from my articles, but I suppose there is no harm in making a suggestion. I have demonstrated in these pages that it is important for people who do heroic things to yell about their heroism from the rooftop (again, I only apply this principle to writing articles, not in real life). But what about if you happen to regularly read articles written by a hero? I think the same principle applies. You should not only continue reading articles by heroes, but you should tell everyone you know about the hero-written articles you enjoy.
