Chapter 12 - The Hog and the 30-30 Rifle

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came

where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion
on him,”

—Luke 10:33

We were driving along in our Ford van on I-95

past Jacksonville, Florida. It was about three
in the afternoon and we were enjoying the beautiful,
sunny day. Linda was in the front seat, and our three
children were safely secured behind us. Suddenly,
the van’s engine shut down.
    Thankfully, we happened to be near an exit. We
coasted down the exit to a pull-off lane. Not certain
of the problem, I began checking possibilities. I
checked the gas gauge and saw we still had gas, but
when I tried to start the engine, it would not fire. I
got out of the van to look things over but did not see
anything obviously wrong.
    Still unsure of how to proceed, I remarked to the
family, “It has to be one of two things: either no fire
or no gas.” First, I checked the engine’s fire, but that
checked out okay. Then removing a line from the
fuel pump. I instructed Linda to start the engine, and
when she did, I could see there was no gas coming
out of the fuel pump. The fuel pump was out.
    There we were in the middle of nowhere, off
Interstate 95 somewhere in Florida. It was hotter
than a firecracker in the hot Florida sun. To make
matters worse, there was absolutely nothing at this
exit—no service station, no store, nothing. We sat
there for a while until a pickup truck suddenly sped
past us. It seemed as though the driver was going
100 miles per hour, but he slammed on his brakes,
smoke flying everywhere, and threw that pickup
into reverse, blackening the road with his spinning
tires as he backed up to our van.
    We did not know whether to run, hide, or start
praying, although we were happy that he had
stopped. Getting out of his truck, he sauntered over
to us and said, “You having problems?”
    “Yes, I think the fuel pump has gone bad,” He
kindly offered to check it and afterwards agreed
with my assessment. Then he offered to buy one for
us. We agreed to the plan and sent our ten-year-old
son, Jr. with him.
    The man headed to his pickup, and we all followed.
The first thing we noticed was a dead wild
hog in the bed of his truck. He explained that he had
been hunting and had just killed the hog. Then he
opened his truck and took out a 30-30 rifle! Now we
really did feel like running and hiding! He calmly
reassured us, saying we were not to worry, that he
was only laying it in the back of the truck so Jr.
could sit up front with him.
    With that, they were gone—a man with a dead
hog and a 30-30 rifle in the back of his truck, along
with our ten-year-old son. Linda and I looked at
each other. Were we crazy, or just not thinking?
We had let our ten-year-old son go off with a complete
stranger. “What were we thinking?” my wife
lamented aloud.
    We started praying earnestly. “Lord, please keep
our son safe. Let them find a fuel pump and come
back quickly.”
    We sat, waited, and prayed. The sky was getting
dark and the mosquitoes were feasting on us. We
had never seen mosquitoes like these; they were so
big we needed a shotgun to kill them! Growing tired
of fighting the mosquitoes, we rolled up the windows
in the van, but it quickly got very hot. I do not
know which was worse: the mosquitoes or the heat.
    Finally, the man and our son returned. By this
time, it was completely dark—and I do mean dark—
there in the middle of nowhere. The man apologized,
“I’m sorry it took so long. But I had to go home and
bleed the hog before I could help ya’ll. It would not
have been any good if I had waited.” Bleeding the
hog meant hanging it by its hind legs and letting all
the blood drain out before it would ruin the meat.
    We were so happy to see them return. The man
had brought a large light to help us see. But when
he said that all the auto parts stores had been closed,
my heart sank. Oh no! “we will have to sleep here in
the middle of nowhere tonight, with all these bloodsucking
Mosquitoes.”
    To my great relief, he added, “I went back to my
  house and got an electric fuel pump off my old race
car and I am going to install it for you.” Boy, did that
lift my spirits! I figured all those mosquitoes must
have heard, too, and were sad that they were not
getting any more blood from us that night. It took
him awhile to get the electric fuel pump hooked up
and wired to the frame. The old van fired right up.
What a sweet sound of music to our ears!
    We thanked the man profusely for his help and
asked him how much we owed. To our amazement,
he said, “Nothing.”
    “But,” I insisted, “what about the electric fuel
pump? What is your name and address so I can send
it back to you?”
    “Don’t worry about it. Maybe one day you’ll
pass someone on the side of the road who needs a
fuel pump and you can just give it to them.” We
thanked him again as we continued on our way.
    Praise the Lord for people who are willing to stop
and help a stranded family! Yes, we did witness to
him, and we left a gospel tract for him to read later.

Jesus Loves me this I know!

(Copyright by Jay B Ayers)