All ears

I made my weekly trip to town yesterday, for provisions and a haircut. It was uneventful, until the drive home. I turned off the highway onto the 11.4 mile dirt road to the ranch. About three miles in, I made the 90 degree turn, went down the hill into the arroyo, and hit the brakes. There was a vehicle flipped on its side, perpendicular to the road and blocking it completely. I jumped out of my truck, jumped back in to grab my phone, jumped back out and ran to the vehicle, thinking for sure this was gonna be ugly. Then I heard a man's voice and saw him walking toward me on the opposite side of the vehicle.

Me: Are you ok??
Him: Yeah. I was driving too fast and flipped it.
Me: You sure did.

I looked at the man, I looked at the vehicle (it was a small Kia SUV), I looked at all the stuff strewn across the road that had fallen out of the vehicle, and I started having a not very good feeling about the situation.

Me: How long ago did it happen?
Him: About 30 minutes.
Me: Do you have a cell phone? Have you called someone?
Him: Well, I'm not really sure where I am.
Me: Hmm. 

This is when what was left of the hair on the back of my neck started to stand up.

I told him where he was and that I had the phone number for a tow truck company in my truck and I'd be happy to get it for him. I was fairly certain by now that alcohol may have been a contributing factor to the wreck.

While I was retrieving the phone number, the man asked me if I had a tow hitch on my truck and could I help him upright his vehicle. I politely told him I did but that I didn't know the first thing about uprighting vehicles on a steep hill in an arroyo on a one-lane dirt road with steep banks and no place to turn around ... with a drunken stranger as my only help. (I didn't say that last part out loud.) My good samaritanism has a limit.

I waited until I was sure he had cell service and could call the tow truck company, then headed back out to the highway, not feeling too guilty about doing more to help. It would have been one thing if he'd been hurt, but he wasn't. He was just a knucklehead.

When I finally got hime, I went right to the barn to tell Lucy and the boys the story of my trip home. They were all ears.

Hank: She thinks we're listening to her ramble on but we're really just staring at her new haircut.

Alan: Isn't it a little short?

George: Maybe you should put a hat on.

Lucy: Give it a couple of weeks. It'll grow back.