July 2nd, 2024
Hans called me yesterday from his home in rural Texas. He doesn’t call that often, but when he does, it’s about something he really wants to get off his chest. Usually, he wants to discuss the latest idiocy at his workplace, but not this time. This time, my oldest son had something else to tell me. He started right into it.
“Dad, I did a Good Samaritan thing on the way home today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I was driving along that feeder road by I-45. You know which one I mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I saw a car stopped on the side of the road. There was this old guy trying to change a tire, and he was struggling with one of the lug nuts. He had all his weight on the lug wrench trying to loosen it, and it wasn’t budging. That old boy was covered with sweat.”
“Is it hot down there?”
“There’s a heat advisory.”
“How long is that supposed to last? Until September?”
Hans sighed, “No, it will be done by seven this evening. We’re in the triple digits.”
He went on, “Well, a bunch of people passed this car. Well, I did too, but I found a place to turn around. I told the old man that I would go back home and get my tools. Then I drove back to the house. It’s not far from there. You know where we live.”
“Yeah.”
“I found my impact drill and made sure the battery was charged. Then I drove back to the car. We broke that nut loose and got the flat tire off. Then we put the spare on. The old guy was trying to tighten the nuts by hand. I told him, ‘Hell, I got the impact drill right here. Let me do it.’ He did.
He seemed awful grateful to me. He and his wife. I told them, ‘This is what Texans are supposed to do.’ You know, help each other out. I was just doing the Christian Texan thing.
The lady in the car, she said that if someone comes to help, it is almost always somebody in a big ol’ pickup truck.”
Note: Hans drives a big ol’ pickup truck.
Hans paused and said, “Dad, I’m not bragging. I just wanted to let you know that you raised me right.”
Maybe I did.
Frank is Emptiness 