I choose the boyscout…

Yesterday as we drove to a funeral in Baton Rouge, a van in front of us had a blowout and careened between the rails on the elevated I-10 before flipping onto it’s side on the shoulder. We were maybe a car length and a half behind the van. E was driving and maneuvered around the debris and stopped…as did all the traffic behind us thankfully. He looked at me and said, “sorry, I have to stop.” And really there was no need for an apology, I knew he would stop because that’s who he is. He’s the boyscout.

Luckily, the driver was seatbelted and climbed out of the window and down off the vehicle with minimal help from E. I called 911 and then I looked up and realized that the cavalry was coming, in the form of a group of military looking men. They were an Army entertainment unit (according to their van parked down the road) and one of them was even jogging back with a first aid kit in his hand.

We made our excuses of having to leave and I tried to get my heart to stop racing. We made to downtown Baton Rouge only a few minutes late. Later at the repast, family members were discussing the incident and E’s brother said he would have never stopped (nor would it have even occurred to him, I think).

For that and a million reasons more, I’m grateful for who E is.

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