Tuesday, March 27, 2007
looking for gas
Walking home on Saturday evening, near 11pm I saw a tall dark, leather clad biker trying to hail down some passing cars. He caught sight of me and shouts, do you know where the nearest gas station is? He runs across the street to talk to me. He pointed to his Bike which had run out fuel and he explained he just came of Highway 237. I knew where the gas (filling station) was and it was on route to my apartment. So, we shared conversation along the way. He started to explain that no one would stop their cars to help. He thought his large, drak presense was the reason. Not that my mind hadn't processed the situation in that manner too but I listened. Turns out he was a country guy at heart to and he was grateful to find the fuel station.