"Uncle!"

I have tempted the gods.

They are proving themselves worthy competitors, but I have said it before: I like a challenge and I don't shy away from conflict.

I was out of the "Haute"during the holiday season, but before I could head out and experience my kind of civilization I had a few errands and fill up my tank. Recently (and out of no where), my gas gauge stopped working and I was estimating how long I had until my need for a fill up was critical. I was a little more than quarter of a mile away from the station and my car stopped. Apparently I was at Threat Level Midnight with no Michael Scarn to save me and to add insult to injury, it was super cold outside and I was wearing flip flops and a cardigan. Not quite prepared to hoof it just then, I called Sassy to tell her of my plight not that I expected her to do anything, I was just stalling.  Because this is the second time this has happened since I have lived here, she tells me that I should keep gas in my gas can.  I actually used to keep gas in the gas can for a while a few years back as running out of gas is something of a hobby for me-- I don't like to stop and it interrupts my flow. There was one time when I was in the car with my mom and she kept telling me it smelled like gas and it might be coming from the trunk. I was like "Well yea, I have gas back there..." After her freak out, I learned that this was not exactly the best idea as being "the bomb" would take on a whole new meaning if I got in an accident. Knowing this, I have not carried gas in my car since and figured others knew better. When Sassy told me this, I laughed out loud because I was sure she was joking. She wasn't. She knew the dangers, but she knows me better and I don't change my ways too often.

We got off the phone and I was ready to walk but not before I realized that I was pulled over on a major road with my hazards on and no one stopped! No one even slowed down! A good eight minutes had passed since I first ran out of gas and no one in this town even checked on me! I had to laugh out loud because I realized that even though a $10 parking ticket won't stop me, a broken gas gauge and being trapped on the side of the road might have a better chance. Have the hautian vengeance gods made me invisible to the drivers that would want to stop and help? These were the thoughts in my mind as I decided to brave the cold, yank my gas can out of the trunk and head to the gas station in flip flops and with no sidewalk in sight.

About halfway there, I started cutting through the parking lots and a blue pickup truck pulled into a space right in front of me. A man got out and told me he saw me walking and offered me a ride to the gas station,  Coming from a big city, I hardly ever accept rides from strangers, but I was cold so I accepted this one and we made our way to gas station. There were two young boys in the back seat, a boy no older than 19 was driving and the man (probably 35 or so) were my companions for the journey. While I was debating about whether or not to text my sister their description in case I go missing the man says in a very authoritative voice "Wade, you have to make a right here then go straight." To which Wade answers the authority with some rebellion: "I kno-ow, Uncle! Dang!" Uncle. They all referred to him that way and I tried to introduce myself to find out his real name. I was all "My name is Lainie, thanks so much for your help," and extended my hand. He was like "Nice to meet you, Lainie, we are happy to help you." Then...nothing. Did this guy honestly expect me to call him Uncle? We get to the gas station, fill my gas can and head back to my car. I make conversation with Uncle and the boys and they seemed nice enough but it was hard not to smile when words like "whee-doggie" passed their lips. In a last ditch effort to avoid calling him "Uncle," I ask the boys (Isaiah and Elijah) if they were named after the prophets (yes), Wade's mom liked the name and Uncle? "Well, I am these boys' uncle and that's what they call me." Really? Uncle it is.

Uncle put the gas in my car (he also suggested that I keep gas in my trunk...really?), made sure that my car would start and followed me to the gas station to make sure I got there OK. All this and he refused to take money from me. All he accepted was my gratitude and he went on his way. It is not like me to rely on the kindness of strangers but I am glad I was open to their help and I gave myself the opportunity to meet a new kind of Hautian. I don't want to call these people "hick" although they have described themselves as such. The fact they were open to helping, welcoming in just about everyday and didn't ignore the fact we were different and that I was different (Uncle definitely pointed out that it was different that a black girl like me likes country music) I think they can be considered "neo-hick." A classier hick, but still rough around the edges that they won't lose any street cred.

I still didn't address him as such, but I was incredibly grateful for the help of Uncle and his nephews and would probably have pneumonia without it and as inconvenient as it was, this experience made me smile. Even with the running out of gas, no one stopping and only having flip flop on my feet, I still never said "Uncle!"