Five o'clock in the morning is one of my favorite times. Not too many cars on the road and the world seems somewhat peaceful. There is just a hint that it will be light soon. No one to hassle you and the solitude has a calming effect on me. I look in front of me on the interstate and only see two cars and they are about a mile ahead of me. A check in the rearview mirror reveals one car coming over the rise about a quarter mile in back of me.
I notice that just ahead is a car with the emergency flashers on to warn us that the car is not moving. I slow out of curiosity more than anything else and notice that the car is a late model Honda and a black woman is standing on the grass about twenty feet from the car. Although the car is safety off the road and on the shoulder, I think to myself that she is smart to get away from the car in case someone plows into her car. The woman is slim, well built and pretty. The car that was in back of me passes and I see that it is a state cop. He didn't even slow down to see if the woman needed help. Bastard!
I slow down and pull off of the road and onto the shoulder. I stop about 30 feet in back of the Honda and put on my flashers and shut off the engine. The woman looks apprehensive, not sure of my intentions. I walk up to her and start to ask her what the problem is. To try and allay her fears I stay several feet away from her, trying to let her know that my intension was to help not hurt her. She tells me that she ran out of gas. And asks if there is a gas station within walking distance.
I am a tradesman and my vehicle is a pickup with a full cap. The cap is for the purpose of protection for the considerable amount of tools that I have to carry. I tell her that I probably have a hose in the pickup and that I would siphon enough gas to get her on her way. I had just filled my tank about an hour ago. A look of relief shows on her face. I walk back to the cap, open it and search for a siphon hose. After several minutes I find a three-eighths hose and a gallon jug. I walk to the filler cap on my truck. The three-eighths hose is a little small which means it might take a minute or two longer to fill the jug.
While I am filling the jug, we started some innocent conversation. She tells me that she was on the way to work and that she was going to stop at the next turnoff and get gas. She explained the her gauge must be off as it indicated that she still had about an eighth of a tank of gas left. She said that many cars had passed but no one stopped. She felt foolish that she had let the car run out of gas. I laughed and assured her that I had done the same several times. She told me that she was sure that the car needed a tune up as it was using more gas than usual. She said that, when she was married, her husband used to take care of the car.
I filled the jug three times and poured the gas into the Honda all the while making small talk. The small talk turned to me. She asked if this was going to make me late for work. I explained that I was just coming home from an unsuccessful fishing outing at a creek in the area. I told her I was self-employed and that my hours were my own. Work was slow this morning anyway. She thanked me for stopping several times and each time I told her not to even think about it. I was just happy to be of help.
I replaced the gas cap and closed the filler door. I asked her to get into the car and that I hoped the battery was still charged enough to pull the gas from the tank to the engine. She turned on the key and after a few seconds the engine sputtered and tried to start. A second attempt and the engine started and continued running.
She got out of the car and came to the back of the pickup, where I had moved to store the jug and hose. She reached for her pocket book and offered to pay me, telling me that a road service call would have cost big bucks. I refused and assured her that I was just happy that I could help. She asked if she could at least pay for the gas and I again refused. I insisted that she get back in the car and get to that gas station. She asked for my address so that she could send me a thank you card. I handed her my business card and told her she had better get to the gas station before the car stopped again.
She got into the car and started toward the gas station at the next exit. I followed at a safe distance until she pulled into the gas station. I slowed to make sure that she was all right and she waved with a big smile in my direction. I tooted the horn once in reply and headed for home. After a shower and shave I would start my daily grind.
The rest of the day was uneventful and the time passed swiftly. The service calls were simple and most could have been avoided if people had followed the instructions in the maintenance manual and/or had used the equipment in the way it was intended. Several customers were sure that I was ripping them off, so I explained how to care for the equipment. I knew that they wouldn't follow my instructions. Most of the customers had no idea where the maintenance manual was and I was sure that few had read it.
I went home and took my shower and shaved again as I have a heavy beard. If I didn't shave twice a day, the first shave of the day was painful. I wasn't in the mood to cook dinner, so I decided to watch the 6 o'clock news and then fix a couple of hot dogs. After watching the evening news personalities "performing" the news I got up to fix a couple of hot dogs. I didn't know why I even watched the news, "same shit-different day, I said to myself.
The phone started ringing and I walked to it hoping that it was not an emergency call. A pleasant voice on the other end started talking after my hello. She told me that she was Sheila, the woman that I had helped with the gas that morning and that she was surprised that I was still at work. I told her that I worked from home. She thanked me again and assured me that my help was truly appreciated. She said that she was half afraid to call, as my wife might get uptight about a strange woman calling. I chuckled and told her that I had divorced the "strange" woman and that there was no wife to get uptight. She apologized again and hoped that she had not stopped what I was doing. I laughed and said that it would be hard for her to screw up my two hot dogs.
She asked if that was really my dinner. I told her that it was and that I often didn't feel like cooking. Then she floored me. She asked if I could wait another hour and a half for dinner. I said that I could and asked why. She said that she would bring a nice home-cooked dinner over. She lived just a couple of miles from my house. As I struggled to get my mouth working correctly she asked if the address on the business card was my home address. I nodded my head and suddenly realized that she couldn't see my head nod. I told her that the address was my home address. She hung up before I had a chance to answer.
I raced around the house picking up clothes, magazines, newspapers and just general debris and got out the vacuum. (Single men are not famous for keeping house.) The floors got a quick going over. I hadn't made the bed yet so I hurried in and got clean sheets and made the bed. I was just finishing when I saw a car pull into the driveway.
I saw Sheila getting a large box out of the trunk and went the door to help. By the time I reached the front door she had the box in hand and was getting ready to knock. I told her that she didn't have to do this. She smiled and said it was better than two hot dogs. I led her into the kitchen and she proceeded to get the meal ready to put on the table. Some items needed to be heated just a little in the microwave and the meal was on the table in minutes. She had prepared southern fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, gravy and a salad. I asked how she had time to prepare all of that and she replied that women don't tell all of their secrets.
We sat down to eat and the food was delicious. We bantered small talk back and forth and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Sheila was very easy to talk to and she seemed to be a genuinely fine person. She had the nicest personality of any woman that I have ever met. Her company was so good that we talked at the kitchen table for two hours after we had finished eating. She asked to see the house and I gave her the grand tour.
We both helped to wash the dishes and the conversation continued. After the dishes were rinsed and dried and her dishes repacked in the box she turned and thanked me again for helping her. I said that it was really nothing and that I was glad to help. She said that not many men would help a woman broke down on the side of the road especially a black woman. I told her that I didn't notice that she was black, I only saw a woman that needed a little help.
She came to me and stood on her toes and kissed me. I put my arms around her and told that I was paid in full. She looked at me for a long time and then kissed me lightly again. She told me that I was a very nice man. I smiled and told her that my ex-wife wouldn't agree with her. She kissed me again and the kiss was almost curling my toes. She remained in my arms and looked at my face for what seemed like a long time. She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.
We undressed each other and lay down on the bed. We kissed and fondled each other and just enjoyed each other's body and spirit. The foreplay lasted a long time and I took her to her first orgasm with my lips before I even attempted to enter her. I entered her and we prolonged the coupling as long as possible and we climaxed almost at the same instant. Afterward, I held her for a long time as if I was afraid that someone would come in and steal her away from me. We made love one more time and she told me she had to go home about midnight.
We continued hot and heavy for several months and, as all relationships go, we cooled done just a little. Our relationship has progressed to where we are each other's best friend. We meet often for breakfast or lunch. We have held each other when our when our other relationships have gone bad. I have held her while she has cried herself to sleep because of an inconsiderate man and she has listened to me while I rant and rave about the dumb woman that I have just broken up with. We know each other's thoughts and feelings and we know that the two of us getting married would destroy what we have. (Marriage has destroyed many friendships.) We have been there for each other in our respective hard times and rejoiced in the other's triumphs. The sex is still there occasionally (read often) and it is not lust but a celebration of friendship.
I'm sure that this true story will be a disappointment to some. I
realize that many, or maybe even most, will not understand a deep
friendship between a man and a woman. I feel sorry for you. I wish
there was someway to show you the joy of an almost perfect friendship.