As he was changing my tire, he looked up at me smiling and shared a story about the first time he ever changed one. It was prom night, one of those super hot nights in June in the Midwest. The kind that makes you sticky. He was wearing a white tux and borrowed his dad’s car to pick up the girl he really loved, when his tire blew. “Yeah” he laughed, shaking his head “I fixed the flat…and the white tux survived the ordeal. But, at the end of the night, the girl let me know she didn’t feel the same way”. Suddenly he looked kinda sad, as if this rejection were happening all over again, 50 years later. I wondered (to myself) where is this girl now? What ever happened to her? I couldn’t help thinking I bet she’s wishing she had him now. He is a total keeper, sitting here on the curb fixing my flat because he wanted to, because he wasn’t doing anything much. “I’m just out walking my dogs” he said when he stopped and offered to fix it.