I found a guy who was out of gas and seemed to have no idea how to get the gas from a new, little, red-plastic gas can that couldn’t have held more than a gallon. Â He had already spilled a bunch of gas on the ground under the fill cap.
I went over and found that the guy was somewhat out of it, but it’s like this: Â If it feels like the right thing to do, I do it, and if it feels wrong, I don’t. Â I did.
The translucent white spout wasn’t attached, but even after I got it on, the thing had weird safety measures.  I got the guy to put on his hazards because it was busy with the cars whipping by having just got off of 93 and highway speeds. He couldn’t get the hazard lights on.
Even with the spout on, he couldn’t get the gas to flow, and I saw why: the thing had a switch you had to move to be able to press a trigger, and you had to hold the trigger to let air in or no gas would flow. Â He could only get about half in, so I took over.
Before I took over, I said “It’s better I helped him than a cop.”  He asked why, so I just looked at him until he volunteered “Because I’ve been drinking?”  I said “Yup,” and he asked “You can smell it?”  I said “That’s right”, but he was busy trying to get in and go.  I had spooked him.  He was going to go without the gas can or turning the hazards off. Apparently, “It’s the triangle switch over the heater” was too difficult for him.
I told him to get off the road as soon as he could, and he agreed. Â He had already walked it off some getting the gas, but I hope some sense came to him. Â He was gone when I came back through there.
Afterward, I wondered if I was aiding and abetting a potential murderer. Â I really trust my gut, though.
April Fool.