The wife and I left Modesto, California headed to Brunswick, Georgia to start a
new job I had taken several weeks earlier. As finances were tight, we sold what
little we had accumulated, over the past five years, in order to make the
three-thousand mile trip. With only about two-hundred dollars in pocket there
would be no fancy meals and maybe, just maybe, one night at a motel to take a
shower and get a good nights sleep. The remainder of the time it would be a
cheap burger at McDonalds and sleeping in the small car.
Though tired, it always seemed to perk me up, just a bit, as we left state after
state behind. When boredom set in I would turn on the C.B. Radio and listen to
the truckers yell and scream at one another. When the language would get a
little course I would reach over and turn off the radio. About half way through
Texas I reached over to turn off the radio when I heard "Is there anyone out
there kind enough to help us?"
"Get off the trucker's channel, idiot," yelled a truck driver.
I reached over, picked up the microphone and said, "What do you need?"
"We are stranded at mile marker 576, east-bound side," said a man.
I watched for the next mile marker sign, which read 574.
"I'm at 574 east-bound. What do you need?"
"Can you two idiots get off the trucker's channel?" Said the trucker again.
I got no reply from the stranded man.
As I reached mile marker 576 there stood a black man, beside an old brown van. I
pulled up behind his vehicle, got out and walked toward him. As I passed the van
I looked in and noticed about five elderly people.
"What's the problem?" I asked.
"Not sure. I can't find my wallet. I think I left it in the washroom at a
restaurant about thirty miles back," he told me.
"What do you need?" I asked.
"You got any extra gas?"
"Just a minute," I said, as I turned and walked back to my car. I explained the
situation to my wife.
"Dad, we got just enough money to get us to Georgia, maybe. We can't afford to
help anyone else," she replied.
"I can't just leave them stranded."
"Do what you got to do, hon," she said, shaking her head.
I walked back to the van, pulled out my wallet and handed the man twenty
dollars.
"You follow us back to the restaurant and I'll give you the money back," said
the man.
"I can't afford to go backwards, I just can't," I told him.
He took my name and new address and promised to send me the money when he
reached his home in Jackson, Mississippi.
I followed them to the next gas station and waved as they pulled up to the pump.
Then we drove back onto the freeway and continued our journey.
"Are we going to make it, Dad?"
"I don't know," I said, biting my bottom lip.
Leaving Texas we had about sixty dollars in pocket. We knew there would be no
bath and good nights rest at a motel.
As we continued through Louisiana the traffic became heavy. All at once my wife
screamed. When I looked up I saw furniture falling off a pickup truck driving in
front of us. I swerved to the right, as quickly as possible, but still ran over
something. I got out of my car and walked to the front to see what damage had
been caused. Beneath the car was a small stereo system. It had cut through my
right tire, which was now flat. I walked to the trunk to get my jack and spare
tire. I was shocked to see that it was also flat. Generally I check and recheck
everything before a trip.
As I walked back to the front of my car I saw the pickup truck had reloaded what
could be salvaged and that the man was getting back into his vehicle. I knew he
saw our flat tire, but nevertheless he drove away.
The wife and I sat on the side of the road for several hours waiting for the
police. It was almost dark when they finally arrived. The police advised us that
there was nothing they could do, other than call a tow truck. We knew we could
not afford to pay for such a service.
After the police left we sat in the car wondering what to do.
"HONK, HONK" went the sound of a horn.
When I turned around to see what was happening; there was that same brown van
which we had given gas money.
"Well, I see we aren't the only ones having a little bad luck today," said the
man, leaning into my window.
"No spare," I told him.
Well, can't fix the problem sitting there," he said.
He reached over, took my keys out of the ignition, walked to the trunk of the
car and took out the jack. I watched him jack up the car and take off the flat.
I didn't know what to say and was too embarrassed to tell him that we did not
have enough money to buy a new tire and still have enough gas to make it to
Georgia.
After he took off the tire he looked at me and said "Go sit in the car and I'll
be right back."
I got into the car and watch them drive away.
"How we going to pay them, Dad?"
"I don't know. We'll just pay them for the tire and the repair to the flat."
"What we going to do for gas?"
"I don't know. I just don't know." I said, almost on the verge of screaming.
The van returned an hour later. I got out of the car noticing that both tires
were brand new.
"I'm sorry, but I should have told you. I don't have enough money to pay for two
tires."
The man said not a word as he placed the tire on the car. He acted as though he
did not hear me.
"I'm sorry but I..."
"I heard you the first time," he said.
When the tire was complete he placed the jack and new spare in the trunk and
closed it.
Follow us to the gas station," he ordered, like an army sergeant.
We followed them to the next off ramp and into the gas station. He got out of
his van and began filling our tank. When done he walked up to the window and
said "I'm hungry, lets eat." I looked at the wife who was now speechless, for
the first time in her life.
We followed them to a restaurant several blocks down the road. As we got out of
the car I looked at him and said, "Thank you for your help but I cannot accept
anymore."
The man said not a words. He turned and walked back to his van. He opened the
side door and took out a large wooden chair. Then he opened the passenger side
door and out stepped the largest black woman I had ever seen in my life. The two
of them walked up in front of me and stopped. The man, looking at me straight in
the eyes, opened the folded chair and stepped back. The woman sat down and said
"Johnny tells me I need to spank your little white butt. Is that going to be
necessary?"
In total shock, I replied "No ma'am."
"GOOD," she said.
She got up and walked toward the restaurant, as did the other people in the van.
The man walked back to the van and replaced the chair.
It must have been almost ten p.m. when we finally ate. Half way through the meal
Johnny excused himself and was gone for more than twenty minutes. When he
returned he laid a motel key in front of me.
"I'm sorry but I..."
"MAMA," said Johnny in a harsh tone.
As the large woman started to stand up I motioned for her to sit back down-that
a spanking was not necessary.
As we ate Johnny began tapping his spoon against his glass. When everyone
quieted down, he raised his water and said, "I would like to make a toast. "This
is the way America should be," he said, almost choking on the words he had just
spoken.
Everyone took a sip of water and sat there quietly, smiling and nodding their
heads to the affirmative.
After eating we all walked to the motel, next door to the restaurant. I shook
Johnny's hand and the large woman hugged both me and my wife.
When the wife and I got up the next morning their van was gone. A white envelope
was left on our windshield. Written were the words "Thank You and May God
Bless." Inside was a twenty dollar bill, folded in the shape of a cross.
Roger Dean Kiser
trampolineone@earthlink.net
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