It’s late at night and I am thinking of my friend Ray who passed away a little while ago. Once I remember I was on my way to hold him a Revival meeting in Camp Point, Illinois and I was pulling my 24 foot travel trailer behind a 1957 Oldsmobile 88. It was a cold, cloudy day and it was getting late in the afternoon. I had looked at the map and found a State road that would cut down on the number of miles I would have to drive and save me a lot of time so I took it.
As I was driving along this very narrow, but paved, State road in Northern Missouri, out in the middle of nowhere, I head a thump and then I realized I had a flat on my right rear tire. I was fumbling through my junk in the trunk trying to find my spare tire. I had to move my amplifier, guitar, clothes, shoes, and a lot more to get to it. Once I found it I realized that it too was flat. Now what was I going to do. There was not a car in sight but down the road on a tractor came a old man.
He pulled up by the side of my car and there in the middle of the road he shut his tractor off. He just sat there in his overalls, blue jean jumper, and a red and black plaid cap with the ear flaps pulled down and tied under his chin. It was the kind of cap Johnny Carson used to wear when he did the skit about the Minnesota farmer. Well anyway, when he talked I could see his breath, it was that cold. He looked at me over his glasses and said, “What's your problem?” I told him that I had a flat tire. He said, “You have a spare don’t you?” I said, “Yes, but it is flat too.” He mumbled just loud enough for me to hear him, “Well, that isn’t too smart, driving with a spare that’s flat.” I agreed with him, though I said nothing, and then he said, “Well, get on behind me and I will take you up to the house.” I did and soon we arrived at a big two story Missoui farmhouse.
He drove on out to the barn, scattering chickens as he went, and said, “I have a car just like yours.” He pushed the door back and sure enough there sat a car identical to mine. Then he said, “Come on to the house I want the Missus to meet you.” He then asked, “Where are you from,” and I told him I was doing Missionary work in Haiti. He said, “Hades.” I said no, “Haiti.” By this time we had arrived at a screened in back porch and his wife was standing there holding the door open. She wore an apron and had her hair swept back in a bun. He said, “Ma, this feller is from Hades.” I corrected him and said, “Haiti.” He said, that’s what I said, “Hades.” She smiled and said come on in and I did. He asked her how long it would be before supper was ready and if he had time to run me to the filling station down the road and get a tire fixed. She said yes, but don’t be to long and with that we got into his “1957 Oldsmobile 88 and drove down the road to my car.
I put both flat tires in the trunk of his car and away we went. We had probably gone about 5 miles when we came to a crossroads and there was a filling station. He stopped in front of one of the bays where they worked on cars and told me to go on in and he would be right in. As I started to walk toward the front door he said, “drink all the coffee you want, it’s free.” I said thanks, went in and poured a cup from a glass carafe that looked like it had never been washed.” The coffee tasted like it had been sitting there simmering all day. I had almost finished my coffee when he came in and told me that it would be a few more minutes and for me to drink another cup, that it was free. So, since it was free I poured myself another cup. I asked him if he wanted one and he frowned and shook his head no.
Some time later a young man opened the door, called the old man by name, and said, “You’re all fixed up and ready to go.” When I got there they were loading my rims in the back of his trunk but on those rims were two brand new tires. I asked him how much I owed knowing I didn’t have the money to pay for them and that was before credit cards. The young man smiled at me and said for me to forget it as they had been taken care of.
We got back to the house, after I had placed the spare in my trunk and put the other tire back on the car. He wanted me to eat supper with them and I did. I never was known to turn down a home cooked country meal. After the meal I said to him, “Look, I really appreciate everything but I wish you would let me pay you for the tires.” He looked at me and tears came to his eyes and he said, “Son, I am 83 years old and I have never done anything for God in my life, please let me do this much.” We rode in silence back to my car. I shook his hand and started the Olds up and headed toward Illinois. I had a full stomach, two brand new tires, and a man when asked what I could do for him had said, “When you get back send me a postcard. I would love to have a postcard from “Hades.” I never tried to correct him that time I just said, “I will see to it that you get your postcard from “Hades” and once I got back to Haiti I sent him one. I never heard from him again.
As I was driving along this very narrow, but paved, State road in Northern Missouri, out in the middle of nowhere, I head a thump and then I realized I had a flat on my right rear tire. I was fumbling through my junk in the trunk trying to find my spare tire. I had to move my amplifier, guitar, clothes, shoes, and a lot more to get to it. Once I found it I realized that it too was flat. Now what was I going to do. There was not a car in sight but down the road on a tractor came a old man.
He pulled up by the side of my car and there in the middle of the road he shut his tractor off. He just sat there in his overalls, blue jean jumper, and a red and black plaid cap with the ear flaps pulled down and tied under his chin. It was the kind of cap Johnny Carson used to wear when he did the skit about the Minnesota farmer. Well anyway, when he talked I could see his breath, it was that cold. He looked at me over his glasses and said, “What's your problem?” I told him that I had a flat tire. He said, “You have a spare don’t you?” I said, “Yes, but it is flat too.” He mumbled just loud enough for me to hear him, “Well, that isn’t too smart, driving with a spare that’s flat.” I agreed with him, though I said nothing, and then he said, “Well, get on behind me and I will take you up to the house.” I did and soon we arrived at a big two story Missoui farmhouse.
He drove on out to the barn, scattering chickens as he went, and said, “I have a car just like yours.” He pushed the door back and sure enough there sat a car identical to mine. Then he said, “Come on to the house I want the Missus to meet you.” He then asked, “Where are you from,” and I told him I was doing Missionary work in Haiti. He said, “Hades.” I said no, “Haiti.” By this time we had arrived at a screened in back porch and his wife was standing there holding the door open. She wore an apron and had her hair swept back in a bun. He said, “Ma, this feller is from Hades.” I corrected him and said, “Haiti.” He said, that’s what I said, “Hades.” She smiled and said come on in and I did. He asked her how long it would be before supper was ready and if he had time to run me to the filling station down the road and get a tire fixed. She said yes, but don’t be to long and with that we got into his “1957 Oldsmobile 88 and drove down the road to my car.
I put both flat tires in the trunk of his car and away we went. We had probably gone about 5 miles when we came to a crossroads and there was a filling station. He stopped in front of one of the bays where they worked on cars and told me to go on in and he would be right in. As I started to walk toward the front door he said, “drink all the coffee you want, it’s free.” I said thanks, went in and poured a cup from a glass carafe that looked like it had never been washed.” The coffee tasted like it had been sitting there simmering all day. I had almost finished my coffee when he came in and told me that it would be a few more minutes and for me to drink another cup, that it was free. So, since it was free I poured myself another cup. I asked him if he wanted one and he frowned and shook his head no.
Some time later a young man opened the door, called the old man by name, and said, “You’re all fixed up and ready to go.” When I got there they were loading my rims in the back of his trunk but on those rims were two brand new tires. I asked him how much I owed knowing I didn’t have the money to pay for them and that was before credit cards. The young man smiled at me and said for me to forget it as they had been taken care of.
We got back to the house, after I had placed the spare in my trunk and put the other tire back on the car. He wanted me to eat supper with them and I did. I never was known to turn down a home cooked country meal. After the meal I said to him, “Look, I really appreciate everything but I wish you would let me pay you for the tires.” He looked at me and tears came to his eyes and he said, “Son, I am 83 years old and I have never done anything for God in my life, please let me do this much.” We rode in silence back to my car. I shook his hand and started the Olds up and headed toward Illinois. I had a full stomach, two brand new tires, and a man when asked what I could do for him had said, “When you get back send me a postcard. I would love to have a postcard from “Hades.” I never tried to correct him that time I just said, “I will see to it that you get your postcard from “Hades” and once I got back to Haiti I sent him one. I never heard from him again.
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