Back before we had kids, my husband belonged to a Jeep racing club. We'd spend every other weekend in some godforsaken woods in Pennsylvania listening to the roar of engines sans mufflers and cursing and people who were far more interested in noise than quietude.
Anyway, there were various races, uphill, obstacle, drags...I only watched the drags because they were short and between the dirt and heat, they were about all I could stand. We knew people in the club who were racing...I wished them well.
One person out of the hundreds stood out from the crowd. He was a short, stocky, mean tempered bull of a man...named John the Bull. He may have had a last name; I never heard it. But he was always cussin' and drinkin' beer and mean-looking. Truly correctly named. He had a big racing vehicle...an X type, which meant it was special, not one that fit into one of the tamer groups. It was loud and so was he. Adding to his short, bull-like appearance, he wore a brown felt squashed top hat. Always sneering, calling on his kids in various cuss words...loud and abrasive.
I didn't think too much of him.
But, after once particular race in the heat of summer, we were on our way home, towing our pop-up camper along busy Route 80, when a tire blew.
We pulled to the side of the road. My heart was in my throat as I imagined all sorts of horrors to befall us...staying at the side of the road forever, leaving the camper for help and finding it gone...the sort of things I always worry about. Being stranded. That was topmost on my list.
Our friends had gone before us, they did not know we were stuck. Yes, we had a spare, but even that was hard to reach.
So here we are, stuck on the side of the road, when a big RV pulls up behind us and out steps John the Bull.
Sweet as can be, he starts helping us lift up the camper, detach and reattach the spare, having his kids help.
Now, he pulled up behind us on a busy highway. No way could he have known we were part of the racing group as we towed no Jeep. He stopped because he was a nice guy who wanted to help somebody.
I'm tearing up now because I remember every bit of that incident and it just showed me how wrong someone can be about another human being.
John the Bull passed away a few years after this. I send up a prayer for him every now and then.
He deserves it.