In the Order of Things

It was lunchtime, and we needed gas for the pickup, too.
We were on our way to Calgary, headed toward Banff.

After lunch, I saw that the gas gauge indicated
that we had eight miles to go before empty.
We had remembered to eat, but not to buy gasoline.
It was twenty miles to the next town.
I tried a roadside farmstead. No one home. No gas.

At three miles to empty, I drove into the yard
of a more prosperous farm. The garage door was open,
but no one answered the bell, or a knock.
I looked in the garage, into a very large storage building,
and was marching toward a third building
when I saw that there was a party on the back deck
of the house. I explained.

"We're having an anniversay celebration!" a man said.
"Would you rather have gasoline or some bourbon?"

I allowed as I would rather have bourbon,
but just this once I would prefer gasoline.

He poured in several gallons, refused any payment,
and retired to the company of those who preferred bourbon.

"No!", he said, "You help somebody else someday."

I fashioned a life-and-travel-resolution:
First fill the gas tank, then eat lunch.

Nobody forgets to eat lunch. Or kindness.

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