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I’m telling you about the affair.
I was still a couple of hours from home, and had decided to take a dirt road for a few miles. I don’t know what reason my mind gave for this decision. It wasn’t a shortcut and it didn’t dodge any traffic. I certainly knew no one there. There is no logical explanation for me being on that barely-traveled lane with a car that suddenly wouldn’t run and with darkness coming on too fast.
Actually, the wait wasn’t too long, and the man who stopped happened to have a well-stocked toolbox in the trunk of his car. He took a while to get my car running, then advised me to follow him to his home, where he had the proper whatever-was-needed (memory fails on this, and it’s not in my notations) to make him feel that I would have a safer trip home. I did follow him to his home, which was near a log cabin which, in turn, was near the railroad tracks.
After I drank his iced tea while he again worked under the hood he disappeared into his house, and when he returned he gave me a folded paper with his phone number so I could call him if I had trouble on the rest of my trip.
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