On my way back from taking the boy to school today, sitting at the only light I pass on my way home, I saw an elderly man struggling with a bunch of bags from the local grocery store. The wind was particularly bitter this morning and I could see his hands were cold and shaking. He was a little man, neatly dressed, in his stylish, yet insufficient for the weather, Members Only jacket. His hands were shaking from either the cold or old age. I briefly thought of asking him if he wanted a ride. I drove away because I don’t normally offer rides to strangers, however I decided to turn around. I knew he probably had a bit of a walk before he got home, since we were in the business district of town. When I approached him again, still not set on giving him a ride, he had stopped to put his hands in his pockets to warm them up and was trying to turn away from the wind. I knew then I would ask him if he wanted a ride.

I think he was surprised, although probably grateful, I asked. He got in the car and started rambling about the cold. He was carrying what looked like about 5 jugs of bleach, not water, in plastic grocery bags and my first fleeting thought was that he is buying chemicals to dissolve a dead body. He then said how he was doing something he never thought he would have to do, buy water for drinking.

He was difficult to understand, as most of the old timers around here are, mumbling through a thick bramble of a native accent. I didn’t understand about half of what he was saying even though I was intently listening for hints that I should eject him from my car. Although he was clean shaven and neatly dressed, there was a funk about him when he got in the car. Not quite describable, not of urine or alcohol or smoke, as many people around here do smell, just an unpleasant smell, truthfully, not much worse than my car. His hair was neatly groomed and cut, probably from social visits to the local friendly barber. His round eyes shone through an abundance of wrinkles. He did have one bad eye. One eye was a worn blue that many elderly people have and the other was a solid pale yellow. It was crusted, like when you wake up with a cold. I focused my attention on the good eye, so I wouldn’t make him feel uncomfortable. I wanted to ask how he lost the eye.

He said he was thankful for the ride and told me where he lived, on the main strip in town, but certainly a nasty walk carrying 5 jugs of water in the cold. On the short drive he rambled again about the cold and how he used to go to school barefoot in weather colder than this because his daddy had to have one more drink. He recounted of how he quit drinking and smoking recently and he did it all in one day because the Lord helped him and how more people ‘round here need to listen more to the Lord. I just listened.

We arrived quickly at his house, a small, run-down house behind one of the larger buildings in town. There were some fragile steps that lead to the front door and a recliner on the porch. He gathered his bags and I asked him his name and he said Roy and blessed me for the ride home.