Acts Of Kindness

That old ‘89 Ford Ranger was full of character. Until my dad fixed it, The Ranger drove for months in four-wheel drive, low range, 4th gear, because the rest of the transmission was shot. There was no need for keys, the doors didn’t lock, and the engine started with just a turn of the butterfly ignition. It was missing the handle on the curbside door, making its driver be a gentleman and get out to open the door for his passengers. The wheels were all but bald as wires poked from the driver side wheel and the break pads were all but gone. This metallic steed wasn’t large, but it did all it was ever asked of.

There’s a road that isn’t a road, stretching from the Old Highway Business Route to the pool I worked at. The Ranger tempted me one day to take on that abandoned dirt field and save three seconds by off-roading into town. He and I weren’t worried about the police, Kevin the cop only pulled you over if he needed to talk to you. Over three summers of driving across that field, we had created our own road. It was the hypotenuse to the opposite and adjacent roads that lead to the town park. With a park, gazebo, pool, football/soccer field, and a baseball field in the park and only one parking lot with 15-20 parking spaces, everyone used our road. We were always proud of that road, calling it our own, but one day someone else was on our road.

Quickly heading home from work was very routine. Even though the whole diameter of this small town was around a mile, we still chose to drive fast as if we were in a hurry. I was needing to get home, get my football gear, and go to seven on seven practice by six. We turned onto my road to save some time and felt a wave of confusion blanket over. There were two large trucks, one pulling a boat and one a camper.

It was the end of July, and in a desert farm town, 5:00 was a hot time of day to be outside. A family stood looking confused at one of the trucks. I can’t recall what was wrong, but something wasn’t right with the vehicle, and they were stranded in this small town, on our road, in the unforgiving summer heat. After finding out it could still be moved slowly, I pointed them down to Bob’s.

Bob’s was our local tire shop, car store, mechanic garage, tow center and fire station. He would probably fix the kitchen sink if too you brought it. We lead the way, unnecessarily. This sleepy town is equipped with a railroad crossing, three four-way stops, two main roads and one blinking light. All they had to do was drive down the street a quarter mile and you couldn’t miss it. I pointed and waved to Bob’s. As they pulled in, I drove off.

Still in a hurry, I ran inside, my trusty Ranger still running outside. My gear was neatly scattered around my room as if I got undressed in a rage. I gathered my things, hopped in the Ranger, at took off full speed. We crossed those tracks, impatiently hit one of the stop signs, and slowed to a crawl as I noticed the family still standing around in confusion at Bob’s. I was now confused. It was Saturday, but I gave them Bob’s cell phone number… because nothing is sacred in a small town, and Bob would be quick to help. It's not often we get strangers. We came to a halt in the middle of the road with no worries that someone would come up behind us. Everyone was gone or in for the night, accept the GFHS Pilot offense/whole team—we didn’t exactly have enough people to not play both sides of the ball. As we pulled in, curiously, I began to see many emotions.

The family consisted of five adults and three children, all of 5-12 years in age. An obvious father/grandpa was standing hands on hips, all but scratching his head under his hat, looking at the machine frustrated. Being the oldest brother myself I could pick out the older brother, he laid under the machine hopelessly frustrated, trying to look like he had an idea to save the day. I was glad he wasn’t mad at me because he looked like he could crush your scull with his bare hand. Grandma was standing with who I assumed was the mother of the children, with desperation in her eyes and a smile on her face. She teased with the children when they came near her and played into their game while holding a distracting conversation with their mother. She smiled and laughed but folded her arms, and in her eyes, you could see the desperation and fear. The uncle, youngest brother of sorts, distracted the children with games and stories, knowing no one knew what to do.

We pulled in and I stepped out. Everything seemed to stop as they looked at this teenage boy dressed for practice. I took a moment to look at all their faces. Two desperate mothers, an angry father, a defeated brother and a tired uncle looked back at me. “Did you call Bob?” It was a stupid question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

Bob was on a fire call and it was a big one, he’d be there in time to save the field but not back to save the family. The children laughed in the background as the family patriarch told me they found the problem but didn’t have the tools to fix it. They tried to hide the desperation, but I could feel the cry for help. The calculations were hard but the solution simple. In my world its ok to leave your truck that needs no key unlocked and know that it will be fine. In this town no one locked their doors, and everyone slept safe at night, but strangers in our town didn’t just inherited that trust. I knew the best mechanic in town, and he wasn’t Bob. I also knew the best cook in town and she wasn’t at the winery. “I have a plan!”, that was my commitment to helping them.

The kids, mothers, and uncle jumped into the truck that worked, and followed me. We went to the stop sign, over the tracks, and to a blue and white house, the house I grew up in. I opened the door and led them into our front room. You could see shock on my mother’s face but the joy in my younger siblings. They immediately grabbed the guests and invited them to play. Out of politeness my mother offered up whatever snack she was just making or had just made. My father got up to see the commotion. The awkwardness was palpable as the family began to realize I hadn’t told anyone they were coming. I explained to my parents what had happened, and we all jumped into action. My sister walked to the store to get enough food, so my mother could feed everyone, my father grabbed what tools he needed not already in his truck, and I jumped in the Ranger took off for practice.

An hour of routes in the blistering sun, a few inspirational words from Spriggs, and some locker room chatter later I was back in the Ranger. The sun was setting, and Bob’s was empty. When I left them, I had volunteered my fathers’ skills, my mother’s cooking and my siblings’ toys, it now seemed mission accomplished. Stop sign, tracks, blue and white house… three trucks, two cars, a boat and one camp, and now the Ranger. There were voices, giggles, and joy when I opened the door. Mom brought me a large plate of food, because I’d explode if I miss a meal.

It turns out the family was on a trip to Lake Tahoe, going though Salt Lake City first for a stop off at the Temple. They planned to drive through but now they were going to stay at the state park, unplanned but they didn’t exactly expect this delay. That was all neat and good, and my family had already befriended them so that was nice, but the shock came after the whole story was told. The oldest son was an Indianapolis Colts O Lineman and played in the Arena Football League. No wonder he looked so massive. He had an autographed picture ready for me as I got home. My father was a Football coach for 25 years and all us boys played and loved the sport, so this was a great treat.

He talked about how amazed he was that we helped. Not only did we help fix up their ride, we cooked food, welcomed them in, showed them the park, and played with their children, even though they were complete strangers. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal for us, there was something about them that read, not psychopaths, so why not. We might have saved the vacation alleviated a lot of fear, but in the end, I feel like we got more than we gave. It’s a great story, good friends, a great meal, and an autograph, but most of all a good feeling.

Looking back at the Ranger and me, its funny how a three second time-saving road, over three years, ended up as a night of a lifetime. I hope that all the small things I do to help will add up to something great one day.