The man at pump 6

Somewhere just past the Big Texan outside Amarillo a few miles after I hit something in the road that I hoped wasn’t super solid (it was) I pulled into a gas station that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the first Bush administration.

The car was fine, somehow.
Just a little ding in the subframe, no bumper damage, no drama.
One of those moments where you exhale and go, “Alright… we’re still rolling.”

The hum of the lights was louder than the traffic on the highway.

At Pump 6, an older guy in a worn denim jacket was struggling with the card reader. You could see the frustration in his shoulders the kind that comes from a long day, not a broken machine.

I walked over since the attendant inside didn’t

I showed him the trick:
Tilt the card slightly forward.
Pull it out slow. “Click”
Old readers like a little patience.

It worked on the first try.

He looked at me and said,
“Thank you Son. I guess it just liked you more.”

We didn’t say much else.
Didn’t need to.

I thought about it for a little while when I got back on the road.

Out on the road, it’s never the dramatic things that get you, it’s the tiny annoyances. A stubborn pump. A missed exit. A rattle you can’t trace. A stray cinder block in the dark that leaves your heart pounding for one whole mile before you dare to check the car. It still feels ok, right?

The quiet inconveniences can stack up until you’re carrying more weight than you realize.

That night reminded me:

Most people aren’t overwhelmed by the big problems in their life although he was pretty worked up.
They’re overwhelmed by the accumulation of small ones they didn’t have the energy to untangle.

Sometimes all someone needs is a moment, a trick, a tilt… just enough to make the machine work again.

I’ve met a lot of people on the road.
Most of them don’t need saving.
Just a little patience and a little kindness.