Dads

On my drive to church this morning I noticed a hitch hiker. You really don't see them much out here in the Midwest. It brought back a memory from my teens.

My dad, my sister Heather, and I were driving cross country to take Heather out to college. We had driven through Iowa and Nebraska we were making our way through Wyoming. The Ford Sable station wagon was stuffed to the gills even with a bike tied to the back. I remember there was just enough room for me on the middle bench. It was night and I remember seeing deer and other wildlife right out the window and praying that my dad was seeing them too, so we wouldn't hit any. As we swerved through the mountains and descended into the small town right outside the National Park we see a hitch hiker. A tall hiking pack weighing her down. Thumb extended. My dad pulls over. Against my sister and my protests because obviously there was not enough room for anyone let alone anything else in our car. He didn't say anything to us. He got out of the car and walked over to the girl. We rolled down the window to hear what he had to say. He kindly told her that if we had room we would give her a ride, but we don't so we can't.

I always just thought my weird dad. I mean who would pull over to tell someone that you can't help them but you would, if you could. This morning it hit me though. My dad is always a very caring person. He pulled over to talk to that girl to give her a little hope. I'm sure he was concerned for her, a girl, hitch hiking, at night. And he took the two minutes to let her know that there are people in the world that care. I'm not sure if all dads are like that, but I am glad that mine is.