I took the Jeep to the shop in the little town nearest where we live this morning because on Monday mornings D&L always go to town for water and groceries. I asked them to follow me in their truck, because the Jeep is ailing and also deliberately very low on fuel and besides if they’re behind me no cop is likely to tuck in behind me. That’s all I asked for, in fact I didn’t even load my water bottles into their truck until I asked one additional favor, that they plan on dropping me off on the ridge overlooking the Lair.
They didn’t do that. Instead…
That Jeep is D’s baby. It’s roughly the same vintage as the one I’ve been abusing for 12 years and you can clearly see how much better shape it’s in, right? In fact he didn’t turn over the key until he finished delivering detailed instructions on when and when not to put it in 4-wheel. He was under no obligation to loan it to me and I would never have dreamed of asking without much greater need. But he did, without being asked, just because old one-legged friend needed wheels.
Living close to the desert requires a certain hardness most people rationally choose not to encourage in themselves, and frankly it doesn’t always make you a nicer person. I know, and know of, people not far away I don’t even want having the knowledge of where I live and when my doors are unlocked. But I got so very lucky in my immediate neighbors.