In 1962, my then wife and I drove a newly acquired but well used Simca Plein Ciel from Miami, Florida, to Sacramento, California. We had allotted just four days for the trip having already used up most of my military travel time visiting my parents. It was yet another in a string of poor choices I take full credit for during that time of my life, but that’s another story for another day.

Now, for those of you unfamiliar with French auto maker Simca, the Plein Ciel (translated “Full Sky”) was a somewhat under-powered two-seater coupe produced from 1958-62 when Simca was apparently attempting to strengthen their brand by capitalizing on the growing popularity of sports cars. Powered by a 2.4 liter, 84 h.p. engine with a four-speed transmission, it reached a top speed of 88 mph. Hardly a speedster, it was nonetheless a sports car and I was still reeling from my failed Volvo P1800 partnership ftasco.

To make a long story a little shorter, by the time we reached Tallahassee, the little Simca had used more oil than gasoline and I realized we were in serious trouble. I pulled into a busy downtown intersection around noon and asked the traffic cop where I might find an auto repair shop. Without hesitation, he directed me to one nearby that specialized in European sports cars.

I don’t remember the name of the shop but I do remember the owner’s name - It was Jim Giles and he agreed to look under the hood. In short order, they had removed the first piston, or what was left of it, and I braced myself for the worst. In the end, four pistons, along with complete rings and valves, needed replacement. To make matters worse, he didn’t have the parts!

Jim huddled with his four employees, made a telephone call, then told us that his father, the Deputy Commander of Maintenance at Turner AFB in Albany, Georgia, would pick up the necessary parts and drive them down to Tallahassee that evening. On top of that, his four employees would stay after hours to install them!

While we waited for the parts to arrive, my wife and I eventually fell asleep in the car and were awakened at midnight by Jim. His father had delivered the parts, he and his employees had repaired the car while we slept and it was ready to drive! Hesitantly, I asked how much I owed, hoping against hope that I had enough money to cover what I was certain would be an astronomical bill. To my complete amazement, he said that he wouldn’t charge for his labor, that his employees would accept nothing more than $5.00 for some beer, and that he would charge only his cost for the parts! I couldn’t believe my ears! I thanked him profusely and promised to call him from Sacramento to let him know how the little car had held up.

I learned a lesson that day, that there are kind, caring people, angels really, that occasionally enter our lives when we need them most and help us on our way. I also learned, first hand, what it meant to “pay it forward”, something I’ve never forgotten.