This happened a couple of years ago. I’d concluded my visit to a Home Depot, and driven down the steep, winding driveway when I noticed a car with its emergency lights blinking.
I stopped and asked the young lady if she needed help. She was young and pretty, and sometimes I’m shallow. She walked over, leaned onto my window, and said she was out of gas.
Normally, this would have triggered my suspicious nature, but as I just said — I can be shallow. I felt chivalrous (and horny — yeah, I’m a sinner), so I went in search of a gas station.
I found one within ten minutes. I bought a large capacity gas can and pumped in thirty dollars of gas, so the pretty young lady could make it home.
Upon returning, my heart sank because she was gone, as was her car. Not only did I postpone my weekly role-playing session for this, but now I found myself bereft of a grateful lady (potential date?!?) and out over thirty dollars of gas plus the ginormous container.
After driving around for another thirty minutes — because I’m an idiot — I deduced that she was nowhere to be found. I returned home, and luckily my friends forgave the diversion.
I often wondered what’d happened, and if she was OK.
