He was driving home one evening, on a
two-lane country road. Work, in this small mid-western
community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But
he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he'd
been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had
finally hit home. It was a lonely road. Not very many people
had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of
his friends had already left. They had families to feed and
dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where
he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the
country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what
was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that
came in handy. |
It was starting to get dark and light snow
flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know,
he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the
road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed
help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His
Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the
smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help
for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't
look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was
frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt.
It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said,
"I'm here to help you ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where
it's warm. By the way, my name is Joe." |
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for
an old lady, that was bad enough. Joe crawled under the car
looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a
time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he
had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up
the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to
him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just
passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to
her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked
him how much she owed him; any amount would have been all right
with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that
could have happened had he not stopped. |
Joe never thought twice about the money.
This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need,
and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in
the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never
occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she
really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone
who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that
they needed, and Joe added "...and think of me". |
He waited until she started her car and drove
off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as
he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles
down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a
bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg
of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside
were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her.
The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor--it
didn't ring much. Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel
to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being
on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed
that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never
let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered
how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger.
Then she remembered Joe. After the lady finished her meal, and the
waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill,
the lady slipped out the door. She was gone by the time the
waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she
noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes,
when she read what the lady wrote It said: |