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...!!
I was coming home from college in 1980 and had a flat on the interstate. Crawled under the old pickup and discovered my spare was flat. I stuck out my thumb with the flat beside me and watched 3,130 cars pass me by. I about gave up hope when a green 70s Nova pulled up with two black guys. Country blacks. I put the tire in their trunk and wedged myself in the back seat on broken bottles and trash. I told them I had been waiting for an hour. They said they knew what it was like. Gave me a 12 mile ride to the next exit with a gas station, waited while they fixed it, gave me a ride back, then didn’t want any money. They said they were glad to help and weren’t doing anything anyway. As they pulled off, I managed to throw a $10 in the window. They slowed down then sped up again after thinking about it. But, times have changed.
I remember my Dad would still pick up hitchhikers when he was in his 60’s. He had quite a conversation with one guy in southwest Virginia who was just recently out of jail ...