Most of us have likely heard the tale of the Good Samaritan, even if we aren’t familiar with its origins. It comes from a story in the New Testament, in which a man offers to help a fellow traveler who has been beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. As a parable, it exemplifies the ethical value of providing aid to strangers with no expectation of compensation.
If the particular Samaritan in this story was deemed to have been good, it suggests there must have been bad, or just so-so Samaritans as well. On a recent weekend, I had back to back encounters with both extremes, giving me pause to reflect on my fellow man.
On Saturday, I was out for a maiden voyage on my brand new Husqvarna dual sport motorcycle, and true to form, I ran out of gas about 2 miles from the nearest station. I was in luck that most of the way was downhill, but with about a half mile to go, the slope turned severely upward, leaving me with some considerable work to push the bike the rest of the way. As I labored alongside the road, I noticed an old, beaten up pick up coming in my direction. The driver was crossing to my side of the road, and he pulled into a turnout directly in my path. It took me another minute or two to reach him, and by the time I did, he had gotten out and was retrieving a gasoline can from the back.
“Looks like you could use some help,” he said. “That’s quite a hill you have to climb.”
It was pretty clear that this gentleman was of humble means and that he had just purchased the gas he was offering to me.
“I really can’t,” I protested, “but that’s very kind of you.”
“No trouble at all,” he replied, brushing aside my objection and handing me the can.
We exchanged a few pleasantries, and he refused to accept my offer to pay him for the fuel. Instead he held out his hand to me, introduced himself as Steve, and went along his way.
Needless to say, I was very moved by this selfless act of kindness, and the famous Biblical tale sprang to mind.
The next day, still feeling the good vibe from this encounter, I was riding my bicycle through a farming area where the roads feature very narrow shoulders. In my experience with such roads, the vast majority of drivers will make a pointed effort to steer a wide path around me, often waiting for oncoming traffic to pass in order to do so safely.
On this day, three vehicles were passing me while I squeezed as tightly as I could into the narrow shoulder. The first two followed the typical path, providing a wide and safe margin. The third, an oversized and obnoxiously noisy truck, proceeded to buzz me with about 6 inches to spare between his mirror and my head. I was startled to say the least, and I gave an involuntary yell, holding out my hand with palm facing upward in the universal gesture of “what the fuck?”
To this, the driver rolled down his window and flipped me off, presumably to add a flourishing touch to his reckless and senseless act.
After the ride and having recovered from the shock of this depressing event, I couldn’t help but reflect on these two encounters, so close in juxtaposition as they were. Here were two people choosing diametrically opposed ways to engage with a total stranger. Steve performed his act of kindness in spite of our anonymity; the truck driver committed his violent act because of it.
It was a reminder that in a world inhabited by people of free will, there will always be creeps like the truck driver, but what holds us together is that they are greatly outnumbered by the Good Samaritans. That has been my observation, in direct contrast to what the news and social media would have us believe.
So let me say one more time to Steve from Alger, Washington, should you ever happen upon these words: Thank you for the help, my friend.
My 3rd Third 