The Hitchiker and the Tuna Fish Sandwich

Dear Gabriella,

The Friday before you were born, your dad was working the checkpoint with his dog Cabo.  As usual, I had made him a tuna fish sandwich with his lunch.  However, on that particular day, they were having a barbeque at the checkpoint, so your dad decided to have the BBQ instead of his tuna sandwich. 

While he was checking the cars for drugs and illegal aliens, he noticed that there was a homeless man walking through the checkpoint.  The man stopped and talked to the agents and told them that he had walked all the way from Oregon, and he was on his way to Phoenix to visit some family members.  Seeing that the man was probably in need of a meal, your dad offered him his tuna fish sandwich.  The man thanked your dad and continued on his way.

As you know, on Saturday, the next day, we received the call that we had been chosen by your birthmother.  We scheduled an appointment to meet your birthmother on Monday.  On Monday afternoon, your father and I are driving to Black Canyon when your dad exclaims, "Hey, there's the homeless man I saw at the checkpoint the other day.  Can we stop and give him a ride?"  I said that I didn't mind as long as he thought the man was harmless.  Your dad pulls over and shouts, "Hey!  Do you remember me?  I gave you my tuna sandwich at the checkpoint."  The man remembered him, and thanked us for the ride. 

When he got into the car, your dad made sure that the man knew that your father had his gun on him and wasn't afraid to use it to protect himself and his family.  The man assured us that he was peaceful and was just grateful for the ride.  (Walking for miles in the middle of August in Arizona must have been trying on his body.)  The man was pleasant and told us of the places he had been and how long it took him to walk to each place.  Although I was listening to his tales, I was continuously destracted by the smell of alcohol that must have been seeping through his pores.  Not to mention the smell of body odor that one would naturally accumulate walking for miles in 115 degree weather without a regular shower.  I was trying to be polite, but I was also somewhat nauseous.  I think I even rolled my window down for a while, although the hot air did not seem to help.
 
We dropped off the traveler at a gas station in Goodyear (I think), and I was grateful to have some fresh air again.  I thought it was sweet the way your dad wanted to help that man that he had only met once before. I also thought it was strange that he would want to pick up a hitchiker on his way to meeting your birthmother, but it makes for a good story.



Here's a picture of him leaving our car at the gas station.

 Love,
Mom