About 12 years ago I was driving to California to spend some time with my brother. It was a trip that I still remember to this day. On 1-15, seventeen miles southwest of Mesquite, Nevada, my car just quit. I coasted to a stop along the side of the road. It was about 9:00 PM on a starry, moonless night in March. I didn't panic, but I was concerned.

Just crossing the road was problematic. It was so dark. I slowly made my way across both lanes and started walking back to Mesquite. A few hundred yards along the road I ran across a rest area. There were no phones (and this was before I carried a cell phone), no lights, just a few trucks parked there. I knocked on one cab and a grumpy driver, who was obviously recently in dreamland, answered. He was not in any mood to drive me to Mesquite or any other place and he told me to get lost. I pleaded. He replied and was even more insistent that I leave. I took the hint and started walking again.

After a few minutes I ran across a road sign. Still 17 miles to Mesquite. I hadn't gone far. My spirits sank. I started to run. Every time a car came along I turned around and stuck out my thumb. No one stopped. I alternated running, walking and thumbing when the opportunity presented itself. After a good amount of time I became resigned to the fact that I was going to walk all the way to Mesquite. After a couple of miles I even stopped trying to thumb a ride as cars passed by.

Every so often there was an off ramp. The first time I ignored the off ramp. But on the second ramp I ran down it and back up. It was a diversion. On the third ramp I went down to the bottom, crossed the road and started back up the on ramp. I had given up. As I neared the freeway again a passing car stopped. Then I saw some backup lights. When the car stopped I heard a voice.

"You need a lift?"

"I sure do!"

"Hop in"

Then he asked, "What are you doing out here?" I got in the car and explained my predicament. I found myself in the company of an older man and his wife. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. I didn't mind.

"Where ya from?" was the question. I explained that I was from Farmington, Utah.

"Farmington? Do you know my boy, Ken Hardy?"

Yeah, I knew Ken. Farmington is a small place. Even smaller in those days. Ken runs landscaping business with a few heavy haulers and a back hoe or two. In the previous few years Ken had dug a sewer line for me, cleaned some trees off my land and leveled some dirt. Ken and I were friends.

"Hmm. Small world."

That was an understatement.

Well, Mr. Hardy helped me out. He took me to the Peppermill Hotel, where his niece worked. They got me a room on a busy night with no vacancies. Mr. Hardy just happened to have a relative with a tow truck and a garage. The Hardys took my key and made all the arrangements to get my car back to Mesquite.

The next morning Mr. Hardy called me at my room. My car was at the garage. The timing belt was ruined and needed to be replaced. I called my friend, Ken Walstrom, who owned a garage and tow truck in Farmington. He told me that the tow and repair should cost about $250.

Later that afternoon I got another call from Mr. Hardy's relative at the Garage. The car was fixed and someone could pick me up if I was ready. The bill came to just under $250. By late that afternoon I was on my way again. I was appreciative and amazed.

A short time after my arrival back in Farmington I went to see Ken. I told him this story. He didn't think it was any big deal. His Dad does stuff like that. Still, it was a miracle to me. One I've never forgotten and one that is never very far from my mind. When I run across folks in need I will always help. I don't mind going out of my way. You see, it's the least I can do.

That's all for now...........
9:29:13 PM    comment []