Just as the first traces of panic began to creep in, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. A small car slowed, then pulled over in front of us.
A young man stepped out — maybe twenty, twenty-one at most — wearing a college sweatshirt and the easy smile of someone raised to help without hesitation.
We explained what had happened. He offered to give us a ride into town, where we could find a mechanic or call for a tow truck. We hesitated at first — after all, he was a stranger, and we didn’t want to impose. But something in his calm kindness made it easy to trust him.
As we rode through the dark countryside, conversation flowed easily. He told us he was a college student studying medicine and had been visiting his parents for the weekend. We told him about our children, our work, the simple life we were building together.
When we arrived safely in town, my wife and I tried to give him some money for his trouble, but he shook his head with that same warm smile.
“Just pass it on,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”
Then he waved goodbye and drove off into the night.
The Forgotten Lesson
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