Last Saturday I realized that I needed some air. Neither for my lungs, nor metaphorically, because of exasperation, but literally - for the front left tire of my car, which looked positively (or, rather, negatively) flat. I felt a little flat myself, but that wasn't particularly unusual.

I drove to the nearest gas station and attached the air-pump hose to the tire's valve, listening patiently to the "pings" the machine made, fast at first and progressively slower as the tire inhaled the air. After the last ping, I disconnected the hose and replaced it in its cradle, and started to get back into the driver's seat, looking sadly at the fingers of my right hand, black from the soot of the tire.

I sensed rather than actually saw the car that was cruising to a halt next to me. I thought that another vehicle was in a need of a "breather," and was going to tell the driver - a woman with curly hair (I think), with a child whose head was peeking out from the back seat - that I was vacating the slot at the pump, that there was no need to rush me.

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I did not get the chance. From the window that was wound down, a female hand offered me a wet wipe that she had extracted from a packet on her dashboard. And then she drove away before I even had a chance to thank her. I wiped my fingers clean and drove away smiling happily. The day looked positively brighter, and I was wondering how I could impart the feeling that had come my way to someone else.

I remembered that I'd once read something about such an approach to life (i.e., that of the lady with the wet wipe and, consequently, mine), and after some brain- and memory-wracking, I found the quote I was after. A. Edward Newton, in his delightful book "The Amenities of Book Collecting and Kindred Affections" (Atlantic Monthly Press, Boston, 1918), writes that when in doubt, he would turn to Boswell's "Life of Johnson."

Once Newton had found a story there about the old doctor being hailed in the street by someone who turned out to have been a fellow student of his 50 years beforehand. The former friend reminded Dr. Johnson that both of them were "old men now," to which Johnson replied: "We are, sir, but do not let us discourage one another." The friend then told him that he had made money, but spent most of it. "I shall not die rich," he said, to which Johnson retorted, "But, sir, it is better to live rich than to die rich." The friend then summed up, in an immortal phrase (writes Newton): "You are a philosopher, Dr. Johnson. I have tried, too, in my way, to be a philosopher; but, I don't know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in."

Cheerfulness is a rare quality, muses Newton, and was so "even before we learned that, in spite of Browning, though God may be in his heaven, nevertheless, all is wrong with the world." He quotes Thoreau's remark that "most men lead lives of quiet desperation," and concludes that it is so "because they will not allow cheerfulness to break in upon them when it will. A good disposition is worth a fortune. Give cheerfulness a chance and let the professed philosopher go hang."

That was what the nice gesture of the lady with the wipe made me: cheerful. And I wasn't being foolishly optimistic. All may indeed be wrong with the world, but the least one can do is to try and make himself and his fellowmen (and fellow-women) as cheerful as possible deep down, if not the full six feet, under the circumstances.

While I was smiling to myself - the wet wipe had a pleasant smell, as well - I found myself humming a tune and then realized it was from a hit song from yesteryear: "Spread a Little Happiness." The song was written in 1929 by Vivian Ellis and was made famous by Sting, when he was still with Police, in 1982. It is really the tune to sing today, especially by Israel's police officers and citizens, who are deeply worried about their personal and national safety.

Note the words: "Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky / You mustn't sigh and mustn't cry / Spread a little happiness as you go by / Please try // What's the use of worrying and feeling blue / When days are long keep on smiling through / Spread a little happiness till dreams come true."

That is what the lady at the service station did: She had spread some happiness my way. I thought to myself that I may cry and I may sigh, but that I would try to spread some happiness - while not spreading it too thin (nor laying it on too thick, for that matter). After all, one can't afford too much of a good thing.

And to be on the safe side, make sure you have a packet of wet wipes in your car.