A TRIP IN THE TIME MACHINE

Joe and I were sitting on the front porch, like old people do, but we were each enjoying our iced Sangria and having a cigarette when a young man came by, riding a bicycle.

Our house is on a little hill, so traffic is a bit below our home, which we are thankful for. We can sit and watch, without actually being seen by those passing below. (usually with a tailpipe dragging or the smell of burning belts and oil blowing in our direction)

The man had been studying us as he got nearer and slowed to a halt at the base of our wee hill and asked if we had a cigarette to spare. Joe held one out to him and within seconds he had scaled the ground and was standing in front of us apologizing and explaining that he had been working on his car when the sudden urge for a cigarette had stopped him in his tracks, and he was biking it into town to buy a pack.

Before we could finish our drinks and our third or fourth cigarette, we could hear him puffing and panting as his bike crested the hill.

I hollered (yes. We HOLLER in the country) "Where ya'll live dude?" In my best hillbilly twang.

"At the top of that hill" he answered, and Joe yelled back "Why'nt you toss your bike in the back of my truck and I'll take ya home!"

Why, oh why, isn't that the common, ordinary way of life anymore? Why does everything have to have the connotation applied of "I wonder if he's packin heat?" or "How deep into the jungles are you going Joe? Be sure and take the gun"

So I have to say that Joe and I took a trip back in time to when picking up a total stranger and taking them home was nothing out of the ordinary, but a common practice done without a thought but to help another human.