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The other day I did something stupid, and I'm very glad of it.

I was searching out the dog park and found myself at the wrong park complex. My handy GPS device didn't have the dog park listed, and as my poor dog whined in the backseat, as she does whenever the car comes to a stop, I debated how to continue.

I'd pulled over beside a teeball field where a game was going on. It was a bright, sunny day -- Monday, the day I literally went outside singing "Morning Has Broken," which is not something I'm prone to do. I decided to turn around to try the find the right park, and I saw a guy, probably in his 40s, very well-muscled, walking up the street toward me. I pulled up beside him and asked if he knew where the dog park was.

"Yeah, it's just down the way I'm headed. Could you give me a ride? I've been walkin' a long way."

As a woman -- particularly as a white woman, whose society has taught her to fear black men -- I hesitated. You don't let strangers into your car, I thought. Then I thought of the teeball field full of people behind me; there would be lots of witnesses if something went awry.

It's amazing what can go through your head in a second or two. I made my decision.

"Sure, let me turn around." I turned the car around, cleared the passenger seat of junk, and unlocked the doors. As he came around my car, he saw my greyhound in the backseat -- a vicious-looking creature if ever there was one -- and asked if she would bite him. I remembered black friends telling me they were afraid of dogs because some white people trained dogs to only go after black people.

I introduced myself and he did the same. He directed me to the street he needed to get off on, and I drove for about three minutes. We chatted in that time, me admitting (with some embarrassment) that I'd lived here for almost nine years and couldn't find my way back to the park, which we'd visited before.

I'm not proud to say I was afraid, the entire time we drove -- which, again, was only a few minutes -- that he would pull out a gun and carjack me. Would he take my dog?

Soon enough he said, "This is where I'll get off," and I pulled over to let him out. We thanked each other and agreed it was serendipitous that we ran into each other. He gave me directions to the park -- which were perfect -- and we parted ways.

I came away glad I had let him in my car and glad that I hadn't let fear rule me. It could have gone very differently, I know. But that day my almost unwavering faith in humankind was reinforced, and I hope to keep that in my heart.

As my husband said when I told him about it, "That's how I want the world to be."

Amen, brother. Amen.