My old trusty Vega stopped running, almost as if the key was turned off. Some good old boys saw us stranded, pulled out a tow strap, and pulled the car to a garage just before closing time. They did a quick diagnosis of a broken timing belt, then called the local auto parts store to check if it was in stock (it was), then asked if they would stay open long enough for someone to drive over and pick it up. They replaced the timing belt, and had me on my way in under an hour.

Can't remember what the gentleman charged me, but it wasn't anywhere near what I expected to pay. He said he just ran the business to train young kids auto mechanics.

That's life in Southwest Virginia!

I remember another time when a friend was a reservist who volunteered to do a year in Iraq shortly after Operation Iraqi Freedom. I asked if there was anything I could ship over to him and he asked for a cleaning rod for his Beretta (which hadn't been issued). I stopped at one of our local gun stores and told them the story, and the owner gave it to me. He said that's the least he could do for someone in uniform. I sent it, and a note telling my bud what the store owner did, and my bud sent him a nice long thank you note from Iraq.

That's life where I grew up!