Ceilie's Post

When I was about eight or nine years old, my father and I were driving on a cold, winter night. It was reaching dusk and we saw a man walking with his bike at his side. He was clearly having trouble and we stopped and asked what was wrong. He was in obvious distress because his bike had gotten a flat tire. My father made casual conversation from his car with the man and after a few minutes, he offered to give him a ride. The man got in and gave my dad directions. We drove only a few miles and we pulled into his driveway. The man thanked us very much and got his bike out of the car. As we drove off, I felt happy with my father and I that we gave this poor man a ride. I knew that if we hadn't, he would've gotten home hours later and by then it would've been almost too cold to handle and too dark to see.