The Life Lessons I Learned From My Father
"Helping others is helping ourselves."

Pay it forward –

One heavy snowing night during the American gasoline shortage, I drove home from College Park, Maryland, after work.

But first, here is a quick history of the gas shortage era. It was at the height of the gasoline (gas) shortage in the entire USA, with all the gas stations closed all day and night. Once in a while, one would open for a few hours with a long line of cars inching forward and hoping to get some desperately needed gas. But most of the time, the gas stations would run out of their rationed gas, leaving many waiting in lines.

Logically, I had no reason to get at the end of a long line wrapped around the block. The gas shortage had never happened in America before. Finding a gas station and getting gas was a crapshoot at best. As if any were open, the lines were too long, and there was no guarantee of getting gas as they ran out quickly. People commonly left their cars behind or slept in them, hoping to get some the next time they opened. It was widespread to see signs plastered in the gas stations around the country declaring "Out of gas" or "Don't know when we have any gas."
But that didn't deter people from staying in the long lines. Also, gas prices had shot up from 20 cents to nearly $1 as the crude oil went from $3 to $12 a barrel. That took a heavy toll on the consumers' pocketbooks and hurt the economy.

It was widespread to see signs plastered in gas stations around the country declaring. "No gas!"

But everyone, including me, needed gas to get to work. While attending college, I worked part-time as a chef at a trendy restaurant in Greenbelt, MD. My apartment and the restaurant were about 15 miles apart, at the opposite ends of University Blvd. One of the oldest main roads runs through the University of Maryland campus at College Park.

That afternoon, I had just enough gas to get to work and pessimistically hoped to find some gas before running out. As I turned into Piney Branch Rd, a gas station opened and removed the barricades to the pumps precisely at that moment. I couldn't believe my eyes and my good luck.
I pulled in and was the first car at the pump. I remember my hands were shaking in excitement and disbelief. Within a few minutes, a line built up around the corner.

As I was filling up my tank, I kept thinking about where else I could store more gas as people had put all sorts of containers in their cars' trunks, filling them with gas—a dangerous act.

As I headed to work, I was extremely excited and thankful to God for making it possible for me to be there just at the right moment the gas station opened and to get gas that would last me for a week since I'd curtailed my driving to a minimum.

It had started snowing early that evening and was coming down heavily when I left work around
2 am. There were hardly any cars or a soul walking on the roads. Of course, there were no stores open. I enjoyed driving on empty roads and enjoying the beauty of the snow-covered streets and falling snow, sitting in my warm and cozy Mustang, and listening to rock 'n roll music playing on the car's FM radio.

Suddenly, I noticed a man heavily bundled up and covered with snow, holding a small one-gallon metal container in his left hand, walking on the edge of the street, around the corner from where I got my full gas tank early that afternoon. Driving cautiously, I stopped, rolled down my passenger's window, and called out to him. He turned and came closer to my car. I asked him if he needed a ride to where he was heading.

In those days, it was common to hitchhike and share a ride with strangers who would stop and offer you a ride.

He said he had run out of gas and needed to find a gas station to get some gas.

Puzzled, I said, "You know there are no gas stations open anywhere in the state!"

He replied, "Yep, I know, but I've no choice; I'm only a few miles away from my home and need to get home to let my dog out."

I said, "You're in luck. I have a tank full of gas, and I could give you a gallon out of my tank." He couldn't believe what he heard, as gas was a scarce commodity more precious than gold.

He asked, "From your tank?"

I said, "Yep."

I pulled over to the side of the road and took out the small piece of garden hose I had kept in my car trunk – in those kinds of days in America, everyone carried a piece of garden hose in their car for this exact reason – and shoved it in my gas tank and started sucking on it to bring the gas up. It was the first time doing this, so I got some gas in my mouth with each try. I coughed and spat out the gas, and tried again more carefully. Finally, I was successful as the gas continued to fill his metal container. After the container was filled, I handed it to him. He was so overwhelmed with my kindness that he couldn't stop thanking me.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a $5 bill to pay me for it. While trying to spit out the taste of gasoline, I told him it wasn't necessary. He insisted.

I told him, “Keep the money.”  
“But promise me you’d help others in need.”

He promises he'll do it. I offer to give him a ride to his car. He waved me off, saying,
“No, thanks. My car is only a short walk away in the other direction.”

He turns around and walks quickly back to his car.

I felt great and happy that I had the extra gas to share with him. I consider my action a "pay it forward," and I still believe it was God's "pay it forward" to me as He knew what was to come later that night, and it would be my turn to "pay it forward."

The joy and satisfaction of helping others in need still light up my heart and make me smile every time I tell this story. Even though I went on to become a successful businessman and made and spent a lot of money buying momentary happiness, as we all do with our money, none of those memories are as vivid or as joyful now as the incidents of helping others. Paying it forward is always good; it has served me well when I needed help. I believe God always pays us forward, and doing the same is only befitting!

Rez