Like many Americans who participated in the presidential election, I was disappointed, to say the least. I’ve been a registered Democrat since 1996, and I have voted Democratic in every presidential election. So, when Donald Trump was declared the winner, I was justifiably outraged. For days following the results, I immersed myself in a morass of silent scorn — stewing in anger, frustration and disbelief.
Other than festering in negativity, I mainly coped by talking to politically like-minded friends and family, but the relief was fleeting. I certainly didn’t expect to find solace through an unexpected inconvenience, but life, as it turns out, is filled with surprising lessons.
Five days after Trump’s decisive victory, I drove to the hospital for my regularly scheduled 12-hour overnight shift in the intensive care unit. As I entered the parking lot, my car’s emergency brake system unexpectedly engaged, making it essentially undriveable. The burden of dealing with car trouble, on top of beginning a 12-hour shift, spiraled me further into frustration and antipathy. At some point during my shift, after handling my duties, I called a local tow company and arranged to have my car towed at 7 a.m. the following morning.
Before I continue, it’s essential to describe the location and political landscape of the town where my hospital is located. I have been practicing pulmonary and critical care medicine here since 2019, in a small, rural Ohio town about 60 miles from Columbus. The town is mostly farmland, dotted with the occasional Dollar General, Walmart and “mom-and-pop” stores. Not surprisingly, the area has voted overwhelmingly Republican in recent presidential elections. To emphasize the vast disparity between my political leanings and those of the community, it was once suggested, for my safety, that I remove my car’s bumper stickers advocating for gun control, vaccination, climate change awareness and Black Lives Matter.
As scheduled, I left the hospital at 7 a.m. and was pleasantly surprised to see the tow truck waiting for me. Behind the wheel was Dennis, a man in his 60s who looked every bit the part of a rural Ohio tow truck driver. He was short and overweight, with skin and hands weathered from years of manual labor, dressed in worn suspender jeans and Carhartt apparel, and sporting a few days’ worth of stubble.
Our first interaction was cordial and polite, limited to the logistics of towing my car 60 miles to Columbus, where I live. I fully intended — and looked forward to — riding in my car alone while Dennis towed me. The idea of a solitary commute with my favorite podcasts and music was alluring, especially after a sleepless night in the ICU. Therefore, I was mildly annoyed when Dennis suggested I ride with him in the truck.
Begrudgingly, I climbed the steep steps of the passenger side, entering a vehicle that clearly hadn’t been vacuumed or washed in what looked like decades. The interior was strewn with Coke bottles, gas station snack wrappers and used gum wrappers.
Dennis put the truck in gear, and we embarked on our 90-minute journey to Columbus. About two minutes in, Dennis broke the silence. “So, you’ve been a doctor at the hospital for a while?” he asked. “My daughter works there. She’s a nurse practitioner.”
I remember feeling surprised that Dennis’ daughter was a health care professional; my preconceptions would have pegged her for a different path. As our conversation continued, I learned that Dennis had five children and had worked in a plastics factory for over 30 years. He was remarried now for 13 years, his first wife having passed from ALS, and he had recently started this towing business with his son as a retirement venture. I was struck by Dennis’s work ethic, sense of responsibility and deep family values.
To my surprise, I found myself enjoying our conversation. Perhaps postponing the same old podcasts and music would prove worthwhile. Not long after I had settled into our chat, Dennis asked the question I’d hoped to avoid: “So, doc, are you excited to see Trump back in the White House?”
I figured the topic might come up but didn’t expect it so abruptly. I dodged with an outright lie: “Oh, I don’t get too involved in politics.”
Unsatisfied, Dennis pressed on. “I am. I don’t like the man as a person, and I don’t like how he treats people, but I feel he’s what’s best for the economy and my family.” He explained that the cost of diesel fuel for his tow truck had become excessive, significantly cutting into his profits, and he anticipated a price cut under Trump’s administration.
As he continued, I noticed that my initial discomfort and judgment slowly transformed into genuine understanding and identification with Dennis’ humanity. Here was a hardworking man who cared deeply about his family’s well-being and sincerely believed the new administration would improve his livelihood.
He wasn’t proselytizing about the dangers of vaccines or how illegal immigrants were overrunning our country. He wasn’t preaching about the supremacy of the white race or how abortion is a sin that should be outlawed. He simply wanted his family to prosper, believing the Trump administration would bring his hopes and dreams to fruition. Dennis’ hopes for a Trump administration were grounded in his own experiences and challenges, not in an ideology that threatened mine.
As we neared the mechanic and the completion of our trip, I felt a sense of gratitude for Dennis and his life story. In just 90 minutes of conversation with someone I once deemed a “Trumper,” my prejudices had softened, and I’d gained invaluable insights into someone else’s beliefs — and into my own.
I was reminded that being close-minded, judgmental and contemptuous only keeps my world small and deprives me of meaningful human interactions. It’s a lesson I hope others consider, especially in these times of widespread division.
Jason Chertoff, M.D., M.P.H., is a physician board certified in Internal Medicine, Pulmonary Medicine, Critical Care Medicine, Neurocritical Care Medicine and Obesity Medicine. Dr. Chertoff’s professional interests include management of sepsis and septic shock, ARDS, interstitial lung disease, asthma, bronchiectasis, and other lung-related pathologies.
