When my Dad was a kid (he was born in 1922) they were hitchhiking back to town on a hot day. A car pulled over way in front of them. They hustled up there and the driver asked if they were tired of walking.
“We sure are, mister.” At which point he said “Try running for awhile” and sped off, laughing.
We drove down this sandy dirt road...going along the New River or the Alamo...I don't remember.
Anyway..we came across this black man..with his hood up. He had fishing poles and stuff in his car...my dad stopped and helped him.
The man ended up offering to buy my dad a drink..My memory is a bit blurred about it now...but I know we went to some bar somewhere..and the man bought my dad a beer.
My pop was a good guy...!!