How Shiner Bock Saved the Day

I was headed to the lake one Saturday afternoon to hang out with some friends on their boat.  As is usually the case, I was deep into a development project so when I arrived at the dock, I was still mentally in "development mode."  I was also early.  After sitting alone on the dock by their boat for half an hour or so, my urge to return back to my computer to finish my project finally overcame me and I decided to leave.

The highway near the boat dock was under construction and even on a good day, was usually packed with traffic.  While waiting for what had to be five minutes for an opening in traffic, a curious development occurred right before my eyes.

Into the median of the divided highway screeched a red Toyota pickup truck. The driver immediately jumped out and opened the hood of his truck to fight the fire that had started on or near the engine.  Yes, I said fire.  That is not something you see every day.

Having limited fire-fighting equipment on board, he grabbed the only thing available to him, a spare shirt, and began to beat at the flames in hopes of extinguishing it.  Not only were his actions in vain, but in the process also managed to catch his shirt on fire.  After throwing the flaming shirt into the median, he began casting about for anything else that could be of assistance.

So there I set, watching these events unfold, while waiting for traffic to clear.  I would surely lend a hand if I had a fire extinguisher or a bottle of water or something - anything that is capable of stopping a fire.  Heck the only thing I have in my car besides myself is a twelve-pack of Shiner Bock that I brought to the lake with me.

WAIT.  Beer is mostly water and mostly water is better than no water at all, right?  I mean heck, it's better than peeing into a cup, right?  Maybe we can use beer to put out the fire.

As circumstances would have it, traffic cleared about the same time I was having these thoughts.  I gunned my car, jumped both lanes of the highway, and landed securely in the median beside the burning truck and the burning shirt, and the truck-on-fire-guy.

Using my finely honed ninja-like reflexes, I jumped out of the car, popped the hatchback, and extracted the twelve-pack, before darting toward the scene of the commotion.

Most people don't have a habit of running toward a fire so I guess when truck-on-fire-guy sees a red-bearded, 6'1" leviathan wearing a sleeveless tee-shirt and swimming trunks running toward him carrying a twelve-pack of beer, it must have been quite a shock.

About the time I made it to the median, a friend of truck-on-fire-guy also arrives and we both reach truck-on-fire-guy at about the same time.  I put the beer on the ground, ripped open the top, and extracted two bottles.

Friend-of-truck-on-fire-guy eloquently states, "I'm not letting you waste a Shiner on a fire."  Ah, a gentleman and a scholar.  So refreshing.

Truck-on-fire-guy had no such qualms.  I don't know, maybe he was neither a gentleman nor a scholar, but in any case, he grabbed the bottles from my hand, popped the tops, and poured them over the flames.

You can only imagine the smell of burning hops and electrical wire.

With the flames extinguished, I concluded that my job was done.  As I turned to leave, truck-on-fire-guy reminds me of the remaining ten bottles of fire suppressant still setting in the middle of the median.  I told him that I thought he was going to need them a whole lot more than me, so there they remained.

You can't save all of the world, all of the time, but, you can make small differences.  Having done my good deed for the day, I return home, chuckling about the event the entire way.

Who knew that you didn't actually have to drink the beer in order to have a good time?

The End.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Mitch Milam