It Takes A Community, But In The End, It Was Just One Man (A Memory For National Good Samaritan Day)

Wadley, Georgia 1991

It was nowhere near as cold as the late autumns that my wife Connie and I were used to, growing up in Frederick, Maryland and East Chicago, respectively. Still, the early winter chill was enough to make our car ride from Tallahassee, Florida to Augusta, Georgia quite uncomfortable. We hadn’t owned our used ’84 Buick Regal that long, so the fact that the heating system had given out was frustrating, to say the least.

We had been on the road for over four hours, with a good hour left of travel when we decided to make a quick bathroom stop at the next place open for business before dawn. Settling on an unfamiliar all-night convenience store, we pulled up to the pumps to add a little gas in a tank that was far from empty.

While waiting in the short line to pay for my gas, I got into a bit of small talk with an older gentleman about travel to see relatives. Somehow, that conversation shifted to the lack of heat on our drive.

“If you want to pull up to the parking area, I can take a quick peek under the hood. See if it’s something I can quickly fix,” the stranger offered.

“Sir, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” I replied gratefully. “We can take it to a service station when we get to our destination.”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. “Pull on over. Won’t take but a minute.”

After informing Connie of his offer, we figured it wouldn’t hurt to have him look. Especially if he could save us the couple hundred dollars that we would probably end up paying unnecessarily later. We weren’t traveling with much cash, but we didn’t have a problem blessing him with money if he could figure it out.

I sat behind the wheel as he tinkered around the area, oftentimes coming in to join me in the passenger seat to feel for a rise in blower temperature. I told him that I wasn’t noticing any changes, but I guess he wanted to find out for himself. In any event, I wasn’t offended. Connie had long since walked into the dining area and put her head down, still a little drowsy from our drive and midnight departure time.

Before long, he decided to go back to his car and pull some tools out of the trunk. By this time, a few passersby had come upon the scene to observe, inquire and offer suggestions. Feeling useless, due to my complete ignorance of automobiles and repair, I asked if they minded if I sat with my wife. They all motioned for me to go ahead, none bothering to look up as they spoke.

I purchased 6 cups of coffee and took them out to the small group in two trips. During each trip, I was thanked with a “bless ya” or “good lookin’ out”. Like I said, at that point, there were six people working together, conferring with one another.

By the time I had ordered, received and taken our own hot breakfast to our table, the NASCAR pit crew was up to fifteen or so interested parties. That’s gonna be a lot of coffee, I laughed to myself. We wondered whether or not we should interrupt and thank them, shut them down and ask them to let us be on our way, but the crowd continued to grow as we talked. No one who happened upon them walked away.

“Helpful town,” I joked as Connie sighed. “I haven’t seen this many Black people around a car since we were partying back at FAMU (Florida A&M University).”

“Excuse me, sir. Where are we?” Connie asked, grabbing one of the repairmen who came in to buy some cigarettes by the forearm.

“Wadley,” he replied proudly.

“WADLEY?” I shot back. “As in Jody Whatley??”

Chuckling, he shuffled back through the doors, back to the group which had grown close to a whopping thirty participants at its largest, many of whom were attracted by the existing crowd.

We sat in place for what turned out to be hours, watching many of the helpers come and go as the group gradually got smaller. Praying that they would not all abandon us and leave us with a completely dissembled engine. It gave us some hope to see the same man that began with us, still there, smack dab in the middle of the work. We weren’t sure how to feel by this point, considering we were only an hour from her sister’s house. We had already called her to tell her what was happening, and she simply answered for us to be safe.

It was somewhere around noon when the final assistants walked away, wishing us good luck. We had gotten to know quite a few of them throughout the morning. All offered thoughts, while apologizing for the time it had taken, knowing we could have been at our destination at that point. Each time, we thanked them for their kindness, donated time and effort.

I looked back at our car just in time to see the hood close as several took rags out and wiped down the dirty white exterior. The need for a car wash was the least of our concerns. I was simply hoping that the car would run after all that had transpired. Once again, a smile came to my face to see the very same man that started it all, trudging his way back to the store entrance.

“I can’t believe old dude is still here,” I told Connie as her eyebrows raised in surprise and admiration.

“Well, we got some heat running, but we can’t figure out where the real problem is,” the stranger said firmly, with disappointment in his voice. “I tried my best, but you’re gonna need the pros. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that it took so long, but I swear to you that your car is gonna run fine. We fixed a few other things we found along the way.”

I didn’t ask what because I doubted that I would have known what he was talking about anyway.

“Sir…” I answered slowly. “I really don’t know what to say. If nothing else, I’m – WE’RE – extremely grateful that you worked on our car that long. I really didn’t want you wasting your morning like that. I can’t thank you enough! I don’t have much to offer you, but-“

I stood up and stuck my hand in my pants pocket to retrieve my wallet, just as he quickly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t you dare pull anything out but skin, young brother!” he yelled. I don’t want your money.

Connie and I looked at each other, puzzled.

“Sir, you’ve been at this all damn day!”

“Your keys are in the car. Y’all take care and be blessed in your travels…”

We stood there, speechless, frozen, watching him return to his vehicle. But not before grabbing his toolbox. Once in his car, he looked at us, nodded and pulled away with one hand extended from his car, waving high.

---

We took that route every time we traveled back and forth to Augusta. Up until the day that we relocated to Maryland for my new job.

And every time we passed through that small 1,600+ member town we called “Jodi-Wadley”, we always stopped at that very same convenience store.

Not so much for the nostalgia, but in hopes that we would find the kind gentleman who worked voluntarily and selflessly through a long, arduous project. Who never accepted a penny for his time, to get our heat running and us safely on our way.

The Good Samaritan who never even gave us his name…

I hope you enjoyed my memory for National Good Samaritan Day. If you’d like to share a memory or comment on what you read, feel free to do so in the section below (leave your name if I know you so I know who to reply to). And be sure to sign up at the bottom for email notification of future posts from Kenny’s Camera, Cooking & Crazy Confessions at ZootsBlogSpot.