After returning to my vehicle after escaping the small town gas station proper with nothing but coffee, I wait behind the truck at the pump in front of me instead of trying to manoeuvre my vehicle out in a backwards way. I didn't have to wait long. A lanky, shirtless youth in old blue jeans and work boots strides confidently out of the station (which apparently does not enforce a "no shirt" rule) and toward his truck with long, purposeful steps and a "pop" in his fist.
He readies himself and his pop in his vehicle before slowly pulling away from the pump. He moves his truck about 12 feet forward before glancing back at me in his rearview mirror.
Then, he quickly leaps out of his truck, leaving his door hanging open and engine running. He uses his long, purposeful steps to move himself toward my vehicle, and before I can even get my window rolled down to see what he wants, he has gently pushed the lid to my gas tank closed and is making his way back by my window and toward his truck.
I laugh, shout out my thanks, and feel a little goofy. What a nice kid, I think. He wasn't trying to make me feel goofy. He just didn't want my gas tank lid hanging open down the highway.
Chivalry is alive and well in the midwest, folks.
