The day is well spent, the sun of a hot evening in June was beginning to yield, as the shade of night approaches. I'm traveling west in my pick-up truck on Hwy. U.S.74 near Forest City, N.C. U.S.A.

This is when I caught a glimpse of someone up ahead walking on my side of the road, as distance nears, I can see, he is carrying a large black backpack upon his bare shoulders. The hot blazing sun has left the skin on his upper back burnt red. He is wearing a pair of blue jeans and shoes walking earnestly with a sincere sense of urgency. When I passed by him he held out a small cardboard sign in black letters, saying, Asheville. I was traveling too fast to stop in congestive traffic, and besides, I had somewhere to go. I had called in a prescription to the pharmacy earlier, and had promised to be there before closing, so I was in a hurry too.

All along the way, I was saying to myself, if this poor weary sun beaten guy is still walking, when I return, I will stop, and help him.

The return trip required a watchful eye to make sure he was not passed by or missed. The dark of night was prevailing over the light of day, but I looked and kept on looking and sure enough, there he was, still walking in the tall grass along side the busy highway, hoping for a ride.