hack

We never made it to Kohta Circus. When we left the pavement just outside Bunkerville we saw an old man standing outside a VW bus with its engine cover opened. There were two people on the other side of the 1971 VW. So we stopped to see if they needed help. They needed help. What they needed specifically was a fuel pump. They did not have an extra, and we could not locate one in our belongings. My trusted sidekick, who shall go unnamed, in case there are statutes of limitations in play, as it turns out, knows exactly were to find one, only about an hour away, just about where we started out the day's adventure.
So, we say howdy-do to our new friends, Jus, Lisa Marie (not just Lisa or just Marie) and an unnamed old dude probably 85 or 90, maybe older. The old guy, unnamed like my friend, did not speak English, or for that matter any language but Athabaskan. Jus asks my "friend" if he would be willing to take him to the nearest place that might be of some assistance to him in his hour of need. My friend says," Jus ole buddy, I am your servant", or words to that effect. Within minutes I am left with Lisa Marie and the aforementioned old Dude. Neither of whom know me from the axe murderer that I might appear to be.