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I wrote this to be submitted to a Christian compilation book. I may be a liberal, but when I wrote this, I also considered myself to be a Christian.  The websites associated with the project no longer exist, but you can buy the book, Forty Voices, here.

I enjoy taking road trips; the premature death of my first car is excellent evidence of this. The actual driving is usually uneventful and rather relaxing, but this was not the case on one summer night. I had gone to Winchester, VA, about an hour and a half from my hometown to attend a party with some friends. Around midnight, I left the party alone for the long haul back home. Along a rural road near the interstate, I noticed two Arab-American men pushing a red pickup truck with its flashers on. I slowed down and asked them if they needed help, hoping that they would just need to use my cell phone or something equally quick and painless. After all, I was quite tired at this point and didn't feel up to doing any manual labor like helping push the truck. The man on the driver's side of the truck (who later introduced himself as Muhammad) asked if I could take him to the nearest gas station, which was about 10 miles from where we were. I hesitated a bit, considering the wisdom of "don't pick up strangers", a phrase which all teenage drivers get brainwashed with at some point. But, despite the seemingly universal fear of Arab people being terrorists, I offered the men a ride. Muhammad agreed to go, but his friend (who never introduced himself) opted to stay with the truck, probably because my car has no backseats.Once Muhammad and I arrived at the gas station, he got out to pump the gas into a small container while I sat in the car and listened to music, ever so slightly paranoid that he did have malicious intentions. I realized after about five minutes that I didn't smell any gas. It seemed that Muhammad had never really used a gas pump before, so I started the flow and chose "premium" grade at his insistence. I loaned him a dollar to pay the bill and took him back to his unnamed friend, who was taking a nap in the truck bed when we returned. After making sure that the truck started, Muhammad pulled a large bundle of cash from behind his seat and offered it to me. I surely could have used the money, but I refused. I left them with one of my business cards as a friendly gesture, and bid them farewell.I later shared this story with my mom, who rambled for hours about how I was insane, I could have been killed, he could have been a terrorist, etc. Admittedly, the man could very easily have harmed me, leaving me hours from home with no one around. But, he didn't, and I made it home safely.

I always try to stop to help a motorist who appears to be in need, because I would want people to do that for me. The Golden Rule is so often ignored in our society, except when a person will be rewarded for his or her efforts. While it is realistic to fear those who might try to deceive us, the prospect of bringing joy to another person outweighs the risk of being hurt in my mind.