It Was Only $26.00

Trey and Austin's Mom called me and asked if I would pick the boys up from school this afternoon. I was cutting down a tree at my Mom's old house behind Pricecutter's and dulled the chainsaw blade. It was hot work and I was ready to take a break.

I picked Austin up at WINGS, he was sad because it was the last day there and his best buddy was moving to Dallas, TX. I told Austin after we picked up Trey, we'd swing by Fast Bobbie's and get a frozen Coke. He cheered up quickly.

We got to Sunshine and picked up Trey and headed to the convenience store. While there, I filled up the Suburban. I have learned to fill it up whenever I get below full because gas goes up so fast and the Suburban burns a lot of gas with the big 454Chevrolet motor. I'm driving the Suburban this week while the private nurse is driving the S-10: her Honda is in the shop getting a new paint job.

So, we are at the convenience store at Campbell and Sunshine and I am fueling the vintage Suburban when I notice the car at the pump behind me has a donut spare on the right front and the driver, a red headed woman, is approaching me.

Well, yep, she spins me a tale of misfortune and woe. She and her buddy live up by Rolla and have been to NAMI to an autism conference (her son is autistic as is the child of her buddy) and leaving NAMI they have a flat and pull into Pricecutter's parking lot and watch the air escape the tire.

She related that she asked several people for help but no one helped change the tire. Finally, she gave a man her last $20.00 to change the flat. I told her that guy was a jerk and she wasn't much better: giving away her last twenty, her gas tank sitting on "E" and still 70 miles from home.

She asked if I would loan her $5 for gas. I said no, but when I got done fueling I would put five gallons in her car off of my pump. I ended up pumping $26.00 worth of fuel in her car. She took one of my cards and said she would send me the money when she got home.

I asked where she worked, she said she was a SAHM because her son had such severe behavior problems he couldn't be left alone.

After I shut the pump off, I went into the store and got Trey and Austin their frozen Cokes. I also told the boys if they ever saw a lady with a flat, to fix it and don't charge her $20.00, because it's the right thing to do.

I took the boys back to our house and they ate Ramon noodles and watched a little TV, then played in the front yard until their Mom came and got them.

Me, I sat on the porch and watched them play. It was wonderful. After they left, I got to thinking about the lady and the gas. I should have told her to go back to NAMI, surely they have emergency funds for their clients. I wondered who was watching the two ladies' kids while they were in Springfield for the conference. I wondered if they made it back to Rolla area on the donut spare. They said they were only going to drive 55 mph. I wondered if I got beat out of $26.00.

I only put gas in her tank for two reasons: she mentioned NAMI and said she had an autistic son. NAMI stands for National Alliance of the Mentally Ill. We all fit into that category sometimes and we can use all the help we can get. My niece's son is autistic. If the lady hadn't mentioned those two things I would have sent her to the Salvation Army which is right down the street or back to NAMI. But I didn't.

Trey asked me why I put gas in that lady's car. I told him that sometimes people need a little help and sometimes I feel like helping them. I also told him that if he was ever 70 miles from home, with an empty tank, and only $20 and he has a flat tire, don't give a man $20 to change the flat because he will end up having to beg gas at a convenience store.

All in all, her story was almost worth $26.00. I am on a fixed income. I watch what I spend very carefully. I remember when I was a young man and never been kissed, I got to thinking it over, and boy was I pissed. Oh wait, that's a whole other story.

This one is about how in 1973 I was working at a warehouse making $3.25 an hour and Joe Cox, a guy I worked with, equated the cost of everything into how many hours he had to work to pay for it. Like, if a steak dinner in a restaurant cost $6.50, Joe would ask, "Is this steak dinner really worth two hours work?" I still do that today. That's why I am happy with a "30 pack" and a five pound bag of "salted in the shells" and sitting in the backyard sipping slow out of styrofoam cups, wondering if the ladies made it home and wondering why I even care.

I just won't eat the Rib Crib's "All You Can Eat Ribs And Two Sides" for $10.99 plus tax and tip, twice.