The turn looked fine.

Until it wasn't.

The wheels settled into the mud, and every attempt to get out only seemed to dig them in deeper.

Luckily, a pickup came along.

Two young guys climbed out, grinning before they even reached us.

There was the usual good-natured ribbing. A joke or two about taking the scenic route.

They grabbed a tow strap, hooked us up, and a few minutes later we were back on solid ground.

That could have been the end of it.

A handshake.

A thank you.

Everyone on their way.

Instead, someone smiled and said,

"Thirsty for a thanks?"

So we drove to the local watering hole.

We shared a drink, traded stories, laughed like we'd known each other for years, and eventually went our separate ways.

I don't remember their names.

I don't remember their faces anymore. Maybe my mind has filled them in over the years.

But I remember their kindness.

Sometimes I wonder if they still tell the story about the strangers they pulled out of the mud.