Free lunch

SOMEWHERE ON I-75 NORTH: Last week, we drove 1,250 miles over two-and-a-half days for a sandwich near Findlay, Ohio. It was worth all of the Interstate 95 Florida backups, every ounce of West Virginia’s pea soup fog on 77 west and even those @#$! Michigan pot holes along I-75.

You see, despite what you may think, sometimes there is such a thing as a “free lunch.” Quite often when and where you least expect it.

Just north of Findlay outside a village in Hancock County called Van Buren, we made a pit stop at a Pilot Travel Center. We hesitated for exactly two seconds because it was at the same exit as a Lion’s Den “adult” lingerie store. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. (Their motto: “Sharing is caring.” Nice.)

Granted, a Pilot rest stop is no Buc-ee’s convenience store, but it will do when three seniors – that’s two humans and a four-legged dog on diuretics – have got to “go.” Plus, we were hungry and still about two hours from home.

We all did our business and were left with the choice of Subway or Taco Bell.

“You pick,” Rebecca said, knowing my stomach likely couldn’t handle faux Mexican food.

“Let’s try Subway,” I answered, opting for a healthier choice.

We placed our order: one hot Italian and a bland turkey sub with Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips and a bag of regular Lay’s. (You can guess who ate what.)

Waiting at the counter, we read the menu, visibly impressed with how many variations of sandwiches and types of bread Subway offered. We really need to get out more.

The cashier handed us our bag and wished us a good day.

As we turned to walk away, Rebecca said, “Wait, I didn’t pay.”

“That was already taken care of for you, ma’am,” the clerk said.

“What? Who?” Reb said, looking around the place.

“The gentleman in line before you,” added the clerk.

Looking perplexed, we wondered if this kind soul was still around. He wasn’t. I honestly don’t think that has ever happened to either of us inside an actual brick-and-mortar store. A Mickey D’s or Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru maybe.

Honestly, it’s a wonderful feeling. There’s value in having respect and caring for one another. Gave me hope and momentarily restored my faith in humanity.

Just then a young woman sitting in a far corner of the store said something loud to no one in particular.

“Yeah, he’s a regular. Big guy. Orange hat and T-shirt. He went that a-way,” she said, the way you’d describe a fleeing bank robber. “But you won’t find him.”

She was right. No sight of the man in orange. Well, now.

This is perhaps the one (and only) time I will offer my gratitude to an orange man for this completely unexpected but welcome random act of kindness. This anonymous person paid it forward expecting nothing in return, except that we’ll do the same for someone else.

Growing up, most of us learned that it is better to give than to receive. I sure did. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” my parents used to say. Follow the Golden Rule, Jennifer.

Buddhists have a similar concept of giving that the rest of us could take a lesson from. It goes something like this: Give freely without expecting anything in return. The act of giving is purely out of compassion or goodwill – or the desire for someone else’s well-being.

Amen to that.

All we can say is many thanks to the unknown man in orange, whoever you are. We greatly appreciated your kindness and generosity. And you can be sure we will do the same someday soon.

That is, after we unpack our poor car that looks like the Clampetts’ truck on “The Beverly Hillbillies.”

Oh, and when in doubt, always choose Subway over Taco Bell. Your waistline (and your wallet) will thank you. Darn tootin’, Jed!