Steel’s Tavern

The Kindness of Strangers

A small blue and gray throw rug with American Indian designs traveled with us from one parsonage to another until on this final move to Brandermill Woods we decided to let it go.

Although it mostly stayed in a bottom drawer in our homes, whenever we opened that drawer and saw it, we smiled and these memories surfaced:

It was a hot summer day and I was driving from Christiansburg to Charlottesville with my two small children. We had spent the week with David’s mother while David was away serving as a counselor in a Youth Camp. It had been a wonderfully relaxing week for me with home cooked meals, no responsibilities and a grandmother who delighted in taking care of her grand babies.

There were few cars on the road that day. Since it was before seat belts and car seats, the children were singing and jumping up and down. Sally, my two year old, lay her head in my lap momentarily and then climbed over the back seat to play with Neel.

Looking back to check on them I saw a cloud of smoke coming from the back of the car.

“Uh-oh—this doesn’t look good” I thought. But as the car was still moving I kept going.

We were in a country stretch of land near Steel’s Tavern on old Route 11. There were a few houses set back from the road but no stores or shopping areas were in sight. I had driven for about three hours and was still three hours from home.

Finally a sign–”Red’s Service Station”. Then I sighted a small filling station just ahead. With the car almost engulfed now in smoke I pulled it.

A kind, friendly-looking, elderly man came out. He seemed to be alone in the station. I asked him to please look at my car.

I unloaded the children and made a pallet for them under a near-by tree.

When he came back he said, “Your crank shaft is broken.”

“Oh dear. How long will it take to fix it?” I asked.

“It can’t be fixed,” he replied.

What was I to do? We had no triple-A card. I’m not sure there was even such a thing at that time. I know, I had never heard of it.

I couldn’t call David because he was unreachable on retreat. Of course I had no cell phone. I expected David back in Charlottesville the next day. What would he think when we weren’t there?

I played with the children and puzzled over my dilemma. To make matters worse I realized I had no money with me and of course no credit cards.

Red reappeared. “I’ll take you to Charlottesville, he said “give me a few minutes to close up my station.”

I couldn’t believe his kindness. He was going to shut down his business to take us home.

I was further embarrassed to discover that aside from our small suitcases I had filled the entire trunk of the car with wild flowers I had picked in Christiansburg.

As we were getting ready to leave, the man’s daughter drove up and insisted that she drive us home.

So I left my car with the flowers in the back and these good Samaritans took us home, driving about 3 hours, then turning right around and heading back.

When David came home the next day he immediately set our for Steel’s Tavern. He managed for my old car to be towed away and sold to a junk man. Under strong protest he finally got Red to take some money.

The next week a package arrived for us. It was from Red and it contained the rug. Though not my style, it became a cherished reminder in our home, of the kindness of strangers.

Since we visited David’s mother several times a year we always took the route down old 11 and made it a point to stop for gas at Red’s station. He was always friendly and welcoming.

After leaving Charlottesville we spent a year in New York City so it was some time before we traveled that road again.

When next we stopped at Red’s for gas a new owner came out to serve us.

“Red died a few months ago.” he said.