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Home » Categories » Personal » Other Personal » Helping Someone Can Feel Good or Make you a Naïve Idiot Driver for a Drug Dealer » Reprint Rights » Printer Friendly
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The area is a mixture of industry, low income housing, liquor stores, mission churches, and a well advertised strip club. I have been approached many nights as I leave work by men who are in need of financial assistance. Most of the time they request cash to buy food or money for bus fare. I am not naive enough to think they will actually use it for that purpose as the neon signs advertising alcoholic beverages shine prominently in the store windows. However, convincing myself I am not naive and that some day I will actually help someone, I give what I can. All of them promise to return to pay me back, but after several years, not one has returned.
The recent snow and ice in the northeast made my travel home a little slow and slippery in my 2001 Nissan Frontier pickup. It was late when I left work. The snow, moon, and streetlights worked together to make the whole area shine in a golden hue that was calming and peaceful in the area where my business is located. Never being lulled into complacency in this tough neighborhood I admired the area in its blanket of white as I looked around for anyone that was daring to approach. No one appeared to be out, car traffic was slower than usual, and the liquor store did not have its usual loiterers standing and sipping something from brown paper bags. It was cold and even those that find life hard, uncompromising, and fogged by alcohol like to find some place to be warm.
My truck slipped and slid its way between the ruts that had not yet felt the fury of a snow plow' blade. As I turned left just yards from my highway on-ramp, a small man, who appeared to be Italian, about 30 years old, in a white hoodie and jeans flagged me down. I cranked down my passenger side window to listen to his plight. "Hey man, its freezing and I locked my grandmother's keys in the car. Man, she's 90 years old and I need to run back to my place and get another key. Can you give me a ride, it's just 3 blocks? We were eating at the restaurant around the corner"
Hesitating only briefly I unlocked the door. As I unlock the door I assessed the man's ability to rob me or worse based on his physical size and stature, which is all void if a gun is involved. He was about 5'5" tall and weighs a little too much. He was cleanly dressed and wearing clothing that it would be difficult to hide a weapon within. At 6'1" tall and 200 lbs, I wagered I would be more than he wanted to deal with and that he may actually need help. When he got in the truck he pulled out a few dollars and offered to pay me. That was an amazing offer and allowed me to let my guard down for the first minute of our trip. "It's the Christmas season, rides are free."
"Where do you need to go?" I asked
"Just to the end of Hamilton." he said
A government subsidized housing project was the only thing at the end of Hamilton and I was very familiar with its inhabitants. Most that have approach me in the past have come from the housing project.
"You don't mind pulling down there you know since the blacks live in there." His speech was beginning to get a little nervous and fast. He apparently made the assumption that because our skin color was similar I would be in the same mindset as he in regard to people of other races.
I wanted to begin a discussion on bigotry and prejudice and how all God's people are equal, but I could tell he was building in nervousness and agitation as we got closer to his engagement with what now was a guy meeting him with a key to his 90 year old grandmother's car. When my truck pulled into the housing project, two young black men hurried toward us in a way that appeared to be less than helpful and more hopeful. My passenger got out of the car and met then 15 feet in front of my headlights. I decided then that this was apparently a drug buy and sell and that I would leave quickly, but the ice and my tires would not work together. If I had owned a better car with better tires I would have left him to walk. He was back in the car in less than 15 seconds as my tires finally caught traction and I pulled back onto the street.
"Did you get your key?" I asked with an angry accusing tone. At that point I considered telling him to get out and walk, but the night was very cold and he would be a little guy underdressed for the weather in a tough neighborhood.
"Yeah. I got it. Did you see the way those guys ran up to me." He seemed even more nervous than before trying to assess my understanding of what I had just witnessed. "I think they thought I was someone else."
Occasionally my mouth gets ahead of my brain. "So, were you the buyer or seller?"
He looked at me like one of my kids who had just been caught in a scheme to trick me.
"Man, I don't do drugs. Those guys do, but I don't. Can you drop me on Williams Street ?" Which I knew was several miles from our current location.
"No, I will drop you back where I got you so you can rescue your 90 year old grandmother and her car." I responded with a slightly sarcastic tone.
The rest of the drive was quiet until we were almost there and he again offered to pay me for my trouble. I was already feeling like a naive idiot and did not want to add receiving drug money to my current situation.
When he left the car I fully expected an expression of satisfaction from my passenger at duping the bald headed Good Samaritan, but what I saw on his face may have actually been guilt and shame. He obviously was not the leader of an Italian drug cartel nor was he very proud of himself. Although what I interpreted as guilt and shame may actually be regret at not having a weapon to car jack the 2001 Nissan Frontier.
I yelled out "Happy Holidays and God Bless You!" as he closed the door and he nodded acknowledgement of the farewell. He walked away with his hands in his pockets and head down to block the cold wind which blew directly toward him.
I can't tell you I will not ever stop and help someone again. Only God knows if I will actually be a service in His work or a crime victim statistic in my attempt to be of assistance to those that appear to need help. One would hate to actually neglect someone who actually needed aid for someone faking the need. Truth is the individuals cheating and lying to get help need God's grace more than those that actually require help. If my motivation to help was simply so I could feel good about myself, I guess I would need to be more selective in my approach to helping others. Oh well, continuing on as the naive, bald headed, Good Samaritan isn't so bad. At least when I tell my stories to friends it puts a smile on their faces as they shake their heads and laugh at my apparent gullible nature and my night as a wheel man for a drug dealer.
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