I tell this story guardedly for a reason. It isn't that I doubt its veracity or that its

source is suspect. Only that I cannot state for sure who it happened to.

The story was told to me years ago when I was young. Even then I can't be sure of

whether I was a child or a teenager when it was related to me. What I can be sure

of was that it has stayed with me all these years and the lesson it taught me has

made a difference to my life.

The author was my Dads Dad. My paternal Granddad.

I come from a line of military men. Tough no nonsense people. My Dad was a physical

fitness and unarmed combat instructor in the Australian Army. His Dad before him was

a Regimental Sergeant Major. Not the sort of men to bother with flights of fancy and

airy fairy notions. All the more reason why the story has weight. Because the lesson

it carried spoke of a swings and roundabouts type justice more suited to the mindset

and world view of what could be considered gentler people. The type of tale a Hippy

might impart to his children. I remember it was told to me with the sense of wonder

that accompanies an important truth.

So I should tell you the story.

I probably have built it up a bit much now because there isn't much to the actual

telling. The participant was either my Grand dad or a friend of his. That is the bit I

cannot remember clearly. For the sake of the tale I will say it was Granddad.

So here is the story.

Perth Western Australia at present is a bustling busy city of about one and a half

million people. The centre of a thriving state that boasts vast mineral deposits of

amongst other things gold, silver and iron ore. People are drawn to it for its high rates

of employment and ample opportunities. In my Granddads day however it was more

like a big country town. In 1955 the population of Perth was about 380,000 people.

On (I guess)a lovely sunny day which Perth is renowned for, one of those 380,000

people (my Granddad) was going somewhere in his green Ford Prefect. Where I

don't recall. Maybe for a drive in the country amongst the leafy blue gums maybe on

his way home from another tough day of Army drills.. Wherever, what I do know is

that a sudden and inarguable factor interceded and inhibited him from going any

further. He ran out of petrol. Probably not an unusual phenomena in those early days.

Petrol stations were certainly not as abundant then as they are now. A passer-by

seeing Pops difficulty stopped and kindly presented him with a can of petrol.

Nothing really remarkable about that you might say. It happens regularly. People

helping other people. The remarkable thing about it was that it was Pops own petrol

can. Clearly marked and obviously individual from other cans. The last time he had

seen it was two years previously.

Two years before Pop had handed the same can to another traveller who had also

had the misfortune to run out of fuel. When the man offered to pay for it Pop had

said words to the effect of. "Don't worry about it. Just do the same to someone else

if you see them stuck". Now I can only imagine the journey that the petrol can had

taken in those two years. The original recipient may have taken it home and left it in

his garage for two years. Then the day before Granddads dilemma, remembering his

obligation filled it and passed it on. I would like to think rather that it spent a busy

two years being passed from soul to soul garnering in its travels the blessings and

gratitude of everyone that it affected. We may never know. What we do know

however is that it was returned to a man that seeing a need had provided a solution.

Poetically and justly, when he had a similar need his own solution was presented to

him. A simple tale yet so powerful that the knowledge of such things guides the

thoughts of Prime Ministers, Presidents and Kings.


It could be said figuratively that Pakistan has run out of petrol at the moment. I for

one don't mind sending a can over. I won't miss it. I'm acutely aware that life

has a way of turning sometimes from jungle to desert, from prosperity to paucity in

what seems like the blink of an eye.

We may never know when its our turn to run out.

Great story Elbeau, but why didn't Pop just pour his petrol out the can into the car which had run out?

oz surf said...

Great story Elbeau, but why didn't Pop just pour his petrol out the can into the car which had run out?

He was worried somebody would light a match??

How do you make a cat go "Woof"?? Pour petrol over it and light it. "Woof". They can only do it once though. If you want to hear it again you have to catch another cat but by then all the ferals in your street will have changed address.

Because it would not have given the receiver of the "Good Samaritin" deed the ability pass on the good deed.

In modern and precise terminology it is called "A Random Act of Kindness" which is a thing all of us should engage in as often as the opportunity presents itself.

Nah. The flip of a coin might make it random but that takes the kindness out of it.

more than 3 lines - lost interest - can you summarise

russh said...

more than 3 lines - lost interest - can you summarise

Do unto others as you would have done to yourself.

russh said...

youngbull said...

russh said...

more than 3 lines - lost interest - can you summarise

Learn to Read.

Learn to post in less than half a page may be more apt - the summary said it all

If I just quoted the "Do unto others" statement people would probably would have

considered it the work of a religious crank. To post a true story that gives a real life

example of the effectiveness of such a philosophy carries some weight. If you don't

wish to read it.....then don't

elbeau said...

russh said...

more than 3 lines - lost interest - can you summarise

Do unto others as you would have done to yourself.

dude, i think you just summerised the new testament