The couple needed gas for their car, an old clunker with plastic taped on every side window. The bumper was rusty, and the engine rattled; the clanking sound seemed like giant wind chimes banging under the hood. Sometimes, they’re homeless; other times, they find a place to live for a season.
I met them at a fast food restaurant in Texarkana since I was headed to do some street ministry, and we opted for a spot we both knew so I could give them a little cash to put gas in their car. Ironically, I sat in my vehicle with the heat blasting and my music playing when the rattling white car parked next to me; it scared me at first.
I got out and went to the driver’s seat, where my friend motioned through the hazy plastic to return to the other side.
