I passed a herd of buffalo, some zebra, and a giraffe on the way to school this morning.

I left school with Mama after lunch today to go to a funeral, and when the funeral was over, I went to meet Luke and Hugh to get the little boys. So I'm driving along, singing at the top of my lungs with the song on the radio, and it's pouring buckets outside. I love driving in the rain. Yes, it's more dangerous. Yes, you can't see very well in front of you. And yes, hydro-planing is scary as heck. But I love driving in the rain. I'd try to explain why, but I don't think I can communicate it very well. My mind is mud, thanks to my literature and civics classes.

Anyway, I'm driving along, not paying attention to anything, really---I guess I was on auto-pilot---and all of a sudden, my steering wheel locks up and the car starts slowing down.

I had run out of gas.

Right beside a gas station.

Aaaaah! I'll be late! It's raining outside! I'm in my funeral clothes! I'm wearing my oh-so-perfect-ballet-flats-that-remind-me-of-Cinderella that I just bought yesterday! My hair is bad enough already!

I hop out of the car, trying to act casual, nonchalant, and like I didn't just run out of gas at a busy intersection, right across from a gas station. I run across the street, clutching my cellphone, a $10 dollar bill, and the keys.

Whew, it's a lady behind the counter. And she looks sympathetic.

"Hey, I've run out of gas just across the street, and I was wondering if you have a gas can I could borrow."
"Aw, baby, I don't think so. We used to sell 'em right there on that shelf, but it looks like they're all gone."
"Oh...ok...um..."
"But you can try over at the motorcycle shop. I'll bet they'll have one."

Motorcycle shop. Right. That sounds safe and...non-threatening.

So I run across the parking lot (in the pouring rain) to the sketchy looking building with the three Harley motorcycles out front. When I walk in, the first thing I see is one of those creepizoid teenagers that has long, stringy hair and wears black clothing with studded leather belts.

Great. I'm gonna die.

But then, {Oh, thank you, God} there's this really cool looking older man behind the counter. He has really great, speckled grey curly hair, and he reminds me of...someone...I can't for the life of me remember who. I will lie awake all night trying to think of who it is.

He looks very respectable and kind. And he's wearing those really sweet mechanics clothes. Maybe I won't be slaughtered in this horror-movie-worthy edifice.

"Hey there, I ran out of gas just across the street, and the lady at the gas station said that you might have a gas can I could borrow to put some in my tank."
"Yeah, sure thing, ma'am. I think I've got a can back here that's even got some in it."

So once again, I head out into the pouring rain, followed by my kind faun (he reminded me of a faun, also, by the way). He pours the gas into the tank. "Try to crank your engine. I think it might take now and be just enough to get you to the gas pump."

It wasn't.

"Do you mind if I borrow your gas can to buy some gas at the gas station?"
"Naw, naw, that's fine. Go right ahead."
"Thank you so much! I'll bring it right back and pay you for your gas."
"Naw, hun, don't worry about it."

So I run frantically back across the road to the gas station, trying to get Luke on the phone, unscrew the gas can lid, and keep from getting run over.

I reached Luke, finally, and while I'm talking to him, I keep struggling with the gas can lid.
All of a sudden, a deep voice sounds right behind me.
"Do you need some help with that, ma'am?"

A tall, dark, nicely built wood-elfish looking man is standing there, looking very serious.

Oh my. He's seen battle, judging by the scars on his face. And he's wearing those really cool mechanics clothes. I think I can trust him. (My criteria for trustworthy looks is very stable.)

"Thank you so much! I'm late to meet somebody and I can't seem to get this to come off."
"Yeah, I noticed you having some trouble. Let me get it for you."

So he takes the troublesome gas can out of my hands, deftly screws off the lid, and kneels down to pump the gas into it for me.

I ran inside to pay for the gas and the lady behind the counter said, "Aw yeah, I knew you'd get help from them. They're really nice men. I think that one that's fillin' your gas can just lost his wife."

Oh! The poor elf! No wonder he looks so grave and other-worldly!

I ran (yes, I did a lot of running. In my new shoes. In the rain and puddles. I cringe.) back outside and followed the Sad Man to the car. He poured the gas into my tank.

"Try it now. Will it crank?"
It did!
"Oh, thank you so much, sir! I'll bring you some cookies!"

And then I saw it.
He smiled. And I wanted to cry.





God bless him, whoever he is and whatever his circumstances are. I'm sure he deserves a million cookies.