This is the story of Gas Can Jimmy.<\/p>\n
I pick up strangers. Call it a family trait. My father grew up in a family of mechanics, and always carried a box of tools in his car, ready to help somebody out who might have broken down by the side of the road. I remember more than one snowy night, when my dad, with a car full of kids, would pull over to help some stranded motorist. I would trundle out to help hold a flashlight, or fish out a socket from the toolbox, while he would check wires, tighten hoses, scrape corrosion off of battery cables trying to fidget the car back to life.<\/p>\n
Once, as a young teen, I remember learning an important lesson from him. He was braving a blinding snowstorm to drive me to watch a high school basketball game. There were two kids leaning into the driving snow making their way through the street just ahead of the car. I told my dad to slow down as I looked to see whether I knew them. When I saw their faces and said, \u2018nope, I don\u2019t know them\u2019, my dad stopped the car and answered, \u2018Why does that matter?\u2019 So, we took the kids home, and I was late to the school function.<\/p>\n
Most of the time, when I pick someone up, they\u2019re just in need of a lift to the gas station. I remember one time, on the 401 highway in Ontario; I stopped to pick up a guy walking along with a gas can. I was on my way from Saginaw, Michigan to New England for a vacation. The guy was from Saginaw, as well, and we marveled at the coincidence.<\/p>\n
Another time, I stopped to help a woman whose car had broken down along the freeway. She wouldn\u2019t get in the car, so I offered her my cell phone. She was frightened, but needed help, so I told her I would leave the phone on the hood of my car and walk slowly away. It was like trying to feed a squirrel from your hand. She took the phone, but I kept my keys just in case I was the one being played!<\/p>\n
This brings me to Gas Can Jimmy. That\u2019s not his real name, I\u2019m sure. Jimmy, that is. I made up the \u2018Gas Can\u2019 part. I\u2019ve been panhandled since moving to Durham in 2007, and usually, I\u2019ll help out a little. But Gas Can Jimmy is the first guy I stopped to help out. He was ambling down the highway, looking kind of disheveled, with an empty can of gas in his hand. So, I pulled over and offered him a lift.<\/p>\n
When he got in the car, I realized that this was a man who really, really needed help. He was filthy, and had a makeshift bandage wrapped around his hand, as if he\u2019d been burned. \u201cMister, I can\u2019t tell you how much this means to me\u201d, Jimmy began. This is about where things stopped making sense. When he offered to shake my hand, he withdrew his hand quickly, saying he forgot, that he had burned the hand, but meant no offense.<\/p>\n
I offered to take Jimmy to the gas station. \u201cLooks like you\u2019re out of gas\u201d, I said, using my tremendous powers of persuasion. \u201cMy car broke down on the freeway, do you know where\u2026 is?\u201d<\/p>\n
He mentioned some place miles away. \u201cThat\u2019s quite a walk,\u201d I said. \u201cSome guys picked me up and offered to help, but they only took me here and dropped me off\u201d, Jimmy explained, detailing an interrupted mission of mercy. \u201cThey had to get to work, so here I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go to the gas station, and I\u2019ll fill up your can and take you back to your car\u201d, I told Jimmy. But he needed to make another stop first. \u201cIf you don\u2019t mind,\u201d he started to explain, \u201cMy wife is in the hospital. Do you know where\u2026 is?\u201d I did, and it was in another direction, equally as far away from his car and where we were. \u201cI need to take care of my wife, and I\u2019m running late, so could you help me out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOK,\u201d I offered. \u201cI can take you to the hospital if you\u2019d rather go there.\u201d Then, the story took another oblique turn.<\/p>\n
This isn\u2019t the first time I\u2019ve tried to help someone who had trouble putting it all together. When I was in my late teens, I was attending Wayne State University in mid-town Detroit. I was between classes and headed over to the Detroit Institute of Arts to wander around. I had been there occasionally as a grade school student and enjoyed walking the halls for some unstructured education.<\/p>\n
So, this grade school experience was on my mind one afternoon, when a woman came up to me and asked if I could help her out. \u201cHow,\u201d I wondered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m with a school group, and our bus broke down. The kids are inside the museum, and I\u2019m out here trying to get help before they\u2019re done with the tour.\u201d \u201cWhich school,\u201d I asked. And she named my old grade school.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s amazing,\u201d I said. That\u2019s where I went to grade school! Is\u2026\u201d and I named one of my favorite teachers was still there?\u201d He sure was, she said. \u201cHow about\u2026\u201d so and so \u201cYep, they\u2019re doing fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, I have some tools in my car. It\u2019s not too far away from here, and I\u2019ll go grab them and meet you back at the bus.\u201d And this is where things started to come apart. \u201cWhere is the bus,\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
She said it was around the corner from where we were, but that she was sure I couldn\u2019t fix the bus. \u201cThe bus driver told me that he needs some money to fix the bus,\u201d she said. \u201cCan you give me some money to get these kids home\u201d.<\/p>\n
Now, I\u2019m not the most tuned-in guy in the world, but up until this point, I hadn\u2019t really realized that this woman was panhandling. Now it came into focus. \u201cI don\u2019t really carry money,\u201d I told her. \u201cI\u2019m a broke college student. But I think I can work on the bus.\u201d<\/p>\n
We had been at this probably 10-15 minutes, when she realized she couldn\u2019t pry any cash loose from me. \u201cWell, f**k you. Why\u2019d you waste my time. Damnit,\u201d she hissed, and stormed away, only to stop a few feet away, reformulate her plan and approach a man wearing a suit. However, this time the guy just kept walking.<\/p>\n
I wondered whether her elaborate story had actually happened to someone once, and she just borrowed it. Or had this story earned her some money? It came apart when I questioned her about the details of her story. It reached some critical stage and it just fell apart, leading to the volley of cursing.<\/p>\n
Similarly, I was approached by a man recently while I was walking. He was in a suit, albeit an ill-fitting suit. He was a youth minister, and his car was in the shop. He needed $23 dollars to have one tire put on the car, to get back to the church so he could lead the kids in prayer. Not a dollar, or $25 dollars, $23.<\/p>\n
I asked him where \u2018was the car?\u2019 He told me about a garage a few blocks away. I told him that I didn\u2019t have cash, but I would drive him to the garage and pay for the tire with a credit card.<\/p>\n
That wouldn\u2019t work, it seems, because he had to meet the man about the tire at another location, and he would only take cash.<\/p>\n
No point going any further with that story. No help needed, just cash. The encounter ended with a knowing smile, and the man ambled along to another potential good Samaritan.<\/p>\n
Now I realize that sometimes, people in these situations are drug users. Sometimes, they\u2019re mentally ill; sometimes both. But I\u2019m fascinated by the story they develop. Is there any root in reality? Do they shape the story over time, adding elements which work and discarding ones that don\u2019t? It must work occasionally, enough to keep them telling the story.<\/p>\n
Back to my first encounter with Gas Can Jimmy. So, having picked him up on the freeway while he was toting an empty gas can, I offered to take him to a gas station. Instead, he introduced the fact that his wife was hospitalized, and he needed to go see her.<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, let\u2019s go to the hospital,\u201d I said. But Jimmy was about to go in another direction. \u201cYou see, sir\u201d, he was polite throughout the entire encounter, \u201cit\u2019s like this. I\u2019m not a beggar,\u201d he began. I thought, \u2018oh, boy, here comes the story\u2019.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not that I\u2019m a beggar, but I have a case of oil in the trunk of my car. I\u2019ll sell it to you for $5.00.\u201d This is a novel approach, I thought. \u201cOk,\u201d I said. \u201cLet\u2019s get the gas, go back to your car and I\u2019ll buy the oil from you.\u201d I didn\u2019t really need the oil, but at this point, I was hooked on the story.<\/p>\n
But going back to Jimmy\u2019s car wasn\u2019t in the plan. \u201cOK, sir, but first, I need to meet a man.\u201d \u2018OK\u2019, I thought, \u2018where\u2019s this going?\u2019 \u201cI need to meet a man today who was going to give me a job,\u201d this part of the story began. \u201cHe\u2019s at the\u2026. (a hotel nearby) and if I don\u2019t catch him before he leaves, I won\u2019t get the job.\u201d<\/p>\n
This part of the story didn\u2019t have a request for money attached to it, so I asked if the guy had a phone number. We could call him and ask him to wait. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t have a phone,\u201d Jimmy said. \u201cWell, what\u2019s his name? I can call the front desk of the hotel and ask them to page him.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know his name,\u201d Jimmy said. \u201cBut he drives a Cadillac.\u201d<\/p>\n
So we went to the hotel and cruised the parking lot looking for his nameless friend\u2019s Cadillac. No go. Back to plan B, which was the hospital, or plan A, which was the \u2018oil-for-five dollars\u2019 plan. As we pulled out of the hotel, there was a diner on the right-hand side. I pulled into the parking lot there and said \u2018Well, Jimmy, what\u2019s the plan.\u2019 He started to verbally weigh his options. He needed to pick up his wife, but he needed to get his car, but he needed to get gas, etc\u2026<\/p>\n
At this point, I started to feel a little less in control of matters. The more I tried to problem-solve for Jimmy, the more confused and worried he seemed to become. I volunteered \u2018Well, let\u2019s go get gas, and then go to your car.\u201d No, that wouldn\u2019t work, because he needed to get his wife. \u201cOK, we\u2019ll go get your wife.\u201d But that wouldn\u2019t work, because he\u2019d be all the way on the other side of town without his car. \u201cI\u2019ll drive the both of you back to your car.\u201d His wife didn\u2019t know the car was broken, and he didn\u2019t want her to worry.<\/p>\n
So, we were at an impasse. \u201cJimmy, what do you want to do?\u201d I\u2019d been with Jimmy about 20 minutes now. \u201cWell,\u201d he started, eying the diner. \u201cI\u2019m really not a beggar; I\u2019m just a guy who\u2019s down on his luck. If you could see fit to give me $5.00, I\u2019ll get the gas and go back to my car.\u201d \u201cBut Jimmy, I\u2019ll buy you the gas and I\u2019ll drive you to your car, I said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I couldn\u2019t ask you that. Maybe you could just give me the money.\u201d There it was. The elaborate story boiled down to its basic element. He wanted $5.00. \u201cAre you hungry, Jimmy? I can buy you lunch at the diner? We\u2019re right here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, he said. They won\u2019t let me back in there.\u201d So even though I said I didn\u2019t have any money, I gave him five dollars and let him out the car. \u201cGood luck,\u201d I said, as he headed back toward the freeway.<\/p>\n
But this isn\u2019t where the story ends. Six months later, I was driving down another stretch of the same freeway, about ten miles further than my encounter with Gas Can Jimmy. I saw a well-dressed man walking along the side of the freeway, carrying a gas can.<\/p>\n
So, as is usually the case, I pulled over. I was a bit past the man, so he came up from behind and got in the car. As soon as he sat down, he looked at me and I looked at him and I thought, \u201cThis is Gas Can Jimmy\u201d again. But what are the odds? He\u2019s certainly cleaned himself up.<\/p>\n
Well, I wear a distinctive set of eyeglasses, and even though I was dressed completely differently and had a new car, Jimmy looked at me and said, \u201cYou look like a guy who helped me out before?\u201d<\/p>\n
Yep, this was Jimmy. I said, \u201cIs that right,\u201d without answering him directly. \u201cLooks like you\u2019re out of gas.\u201d<\/p>\n
This time, we were about a quarter of a mile from a gas station. \u201cYep, car ran out back a-ways. I\u2019ve been walking forever.\u201d So I told him I\u2019d buy him some gas. \u201cWell, you see, it\u2019s like this,\u201d and he started with the case of oil in his trunk that he wanted to sell again.<\/p>\n
By this time, we\u2019d reached the gas station. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I don\u2019t need oil, and I don\u2019t have cash, but I\u2019ll fill your gas tank up for you,\u201d I offered. \u201cThat\u2019s really kind,\u201d Jimmy said, \u201cBut I\u2019d like to sell you the oil.\u201d I told him I had no cash, and then he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to me. It was written directions to the hospital. \u201cMy wife\u2019s in the hospital,\u201d he started\u2026 \u201cI said, wow that\u2019s some ways away from here. I\u2019m going in the opposite direction.\u201d<\/p>\n
As it happened, there was a road-side assistance truck sitting at the gas station. I pointed to it and said, \u201cThose folks might be able to help you out.\u201d Jimmy looked at me and said, \u201cYou\u2019ve got to have one of their cards to get help.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have one of those cards,\u201d I told him. At this point, I think Jimmy realized the gig was up. That I wasn\u2019t going to give him money, or perhaps that I was the guy he\u2019d met before, and he just excused himself and got out of the car.<\/p>\n
He was walking away from the gas station with the empty gas can as I pulled back onto the freeway.<\/p>\n