He was driving a small blue pickup truck. He was a guy with long hair and a beard. He was maybe 30 years old. Tattoos streamed up and down his arm. He was leaning against his truck, rubbing his face with his hands, when I asked him my question.
He kind of came to attention then and mulled it over. "Why?" he asked. I told him about my project. This seemed to satisfy him. "You can pray for me," he said, "I'm going to Lincoln, Nebraska." It was maybe 9:30 at night, so he had a long way to go. So I prayed right there for him. He was a pleasant guy, not in any way standoffish. And he gave me a specific prayer request, which I appreciated. I prayed to God, knowing that I didn't know this guy and wasn't likely to see him again in my life, that he would be safe in his trip.
I stuck out my hand then, and the guy took it. Then we went our own ways.
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