The Day I Broke Down in a Place Called Friendship

After I just re-read the title I realized it sounds like some cheesy title for a story about the importance of good friendships.....but...its not

I actually broke down in a place called friendship.

I was driving from Nashville to Fort Worth for my ordination. As I was listenting to my ipod, windows down, singing loudly, trying to keep myself awake somewhere on I-30 in Arkansas, I noticed in front of me a large moving metal piece that looked like it had fallen off of a truck. I was going to swerve but there were cars in both the lanes surrounding me. So, before I had time to consider another option, I found the metal piece under my car. I could hear in my head my Dad's voice from when I was learning how to drive yelling "anticipate" and I was kicking myself.

I got to the side of the road as quick as I could and got out to inspect my car. Now...I know nothing about cars. So my "inspecting" a car was basically making sure there were no huge parts hanging off and nothing was on fire...beyond that I had no idea what to look for.

As I was "inspecting" I noticed a pick up truck stop on the access road. Out of the car came 2 men in overalls and a Yellow Lab running for me. One of the men hollered to see if I was ok, while the other immediatley had himself laying under my car doing what looked like a more helpful inspection than mine had been. They told me that my car looked fine but I might want to stop at a mechanic 2 exits up to make sure. I told them thanks (and was very thankful I had broken down in the south where people in overalls come out to help), got back in my car and headed for the mechanic.

Now the mechanic was at a small arkansas gas station. His name was Bo. He was the mechanic, gas station attendent, and cook for the trucker restaurant. He looked under my car and said it was a little scratched up but should be fine to get me on to Texas.

Feeling confident and lucky I headed back on the highway. About 10 miles later I noticed I was out of gas. So....I pulled off into a gas station in Friendship, Arkansas to fill up. I got it going and then went into the outside restroom while it was filling up. When I came back out I found a screaming woman, 2 more men in overalls, and gas flooding out of my car.
My gas tank had burst.

Luckily...the local fire chief had been at the gas station eating lunch and had run up the road to get the fire truck. The woman turned off the gas valve and I went inside and payed her 80$ for useless gas as I tried to figure out what to do next. The fire chief came back (one of the men in the overalls) and called for Gus from first response and for the sherriff to come help him out. In about 10 minutes the entire town of friendship had come out to see what was going on and to help out if they could. The Sherriff let me know that it was a good thing that this happened when it did. You see, he explanied, yesterday Joe's truck had been stolen. The town had been searching for it and just found it on the side of the road earlier that morning. They figure some teenagers must have gone on a joy ride. But, he said, if Joe's truck had still been missing, he might not have been able to come help me out.

Once the parking lot started to get clean of spilled gas and the excitement had died down most of the people got lunch at the gas station. Lunch consisted of the woman who ran the station taking out a loaf of bread, some ham from a mini-fridge, and making a sandwich. That was the only item on the menu....and everyone had some.

As I was on the phone with AAA, people in the town all told me about their best friends and second cousins who were mechanics or who could tow me to the big city of Hot Springs. And eventually I got to Hot Springs and my car made it to a Toyota shop to be fixed.

Their town is aptly named. They were friendly. And they made what could have been awful into an entertaining adventure. And thats what the best of friends do....they walk with you when your breaking down and provide help and some laughs in the middle of it all.