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Rural Angels

Yesterday, I was on a long trip.  Stopping at a gas station for personal body fuel and to give my engine a rest, I opened the hood of my little truck to check the coolant level.  We have been nursing a slow leak somewhere in the system.  Night had just finished closing the shade on the very last rays of the sun, so I had to rely on the gas station’s eerie green lamps to verify liquid levels.

Releasing the hood’s latch in the cab, I walked around the truck to lift the hood to check things.  Everything looked good. Pulling the hood down to the point where I could let it drop and close with the aid of its own weight, I stepped around to the side of my little truck when a much larger pick-up pulled up directly behind my parked vehicle.


Through her open window on the passenger’s side, a woman turned her head to face me, asking, “Do y’all need any help?” It was the voice of angelic assistance.

“Oh, no.  But, thank you for stopping to ask.  I’m nursing a slow leak in the cooling system.  Everything looks good,” I replied in way of explanation.

“Well, okay–then.  We just wanted to make sure you were all right.”  Her window rolled up, as I watched the large truck glide through the station and onto the access road.

“I love rural people,” I thought.  (This had not been the first time aid had been offered to me on a road trip through a rural area.)

There is something about country folks; they remember (and, I am concerned city folks in their numbers have almost forgotten) the life maxim:  We are here to help one another.