Dirty Elderly Lady Runs into a Gas Station on Rainy Night, Screaming for Help — Story of the Day

A woman walked for miles in the middle of a thunderstorm to save her husband, but when she arrived at the service station, the manager refused to help her.

It was a dark and stormy night… Tara Wilson stared out of the service station’s wide window at the pouring rain and sighed. Just then, a streak of lightning flashed across the sky and the sound of thunder split the night.

Night duty at a gas station wasn’t exactly the exciting job Tara had been dreaming of when she went to journalism school, but unfortunately, she’d had to leave college to support her ailing mother. What Tara didn’t know was that the dreary night was about to become a lot more exciting.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

Even as Tara thought about her life, a frail figure was stumbling towards her in the dark, almost bent double against the force of the wind and the driving train. Tara was almost asleep when a gasping voice interrupted her reverie. “Please, oh please…”

Tara, who was seated behind the service station’s counter, jumped to her feet. In front of her, dripping equal portions of rain and mud was an older woman. Her clothes were plastered with oil, dirt, and mud, and dark streaks of makeup ran down her face.

“Ma’am?” Tara gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!”

The woman took another stumbling step forward and held on to the counter with desperate hands. “Please,” she gasped again, “I need your help…”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

“Oh I’ll just bet you do!” a harsh masculine voice interrupted. It was Tara’s boss, Mr. Anderson, the service station’s night manager who must have heard the woman enter from the back office where he spent his nights online on dubious sites.

Never deny a person in need of help.

“I’ve had enough of you derelicts walking in cadging hot food and coffee every time it rains.” Mr. Anderson snarled. “Get out!”

“Please,” the woman said in a calmer voice, and Tara noticed she had a sweet voice and an educated accent. “I need help, my phone is smashed…”

“Help?” sneered Mr. Anderson. “Did you drive here? Do you need gas? Or motor oil? Do you have money or a credit card?”

“No,” the woman said. “You don’t understand…”

“I understand you just fine.” the manager snarled. “Get out! No car and no money, you get nothing!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

The woman pressed her shaking hands together. “My husband and I had a car accident, he’s lying unconscious on the road…All I ask is that you make a phone call!”

Tara made up her mind and stepped forward. “Ma’am, I’ll call 911 for you,” she said. She picked up the receiver of the service station’s landline and dialed. She frowned and picked up her cell phone then shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she told the woman. “But the storm probably took down the phone lines and the cell tower. Where did you crash?”

The woman’s lips were trembling. “My poor John, oh my poor John…”

Tara came around the counter and put her arm around the woman’s sopping-wet shoulders. “Come on, Ma’am, I’ll drive you to him. We’ll take him to the hospital.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

The manager was enraged. “You most certainly will not!” he screamed. “You walk out that door and you’re fired!”

Tara looked at Mr. Anderson and said quietly. “Go ahead, fire me. But I won’t leave a man dying by the roadside.”

“Thank you, my dear,” cried the woman. “My husband is an influential man, you won’t regret this.”

“No matter who your husband is, I won’t regret it, Ma’am,” said Tara as she settled the woman into her car and buckled her seat belt. “My mother always taught us to help whenever we could, no matter who it is.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

With the woman’s guidance, Tara found the scene of the accident. The car was completely destroyed, and by the side of the road and covered with a blanket was an older man.

“John,” the woman cried kneeling by his side, “I’m here, darling, I found help!” The man opened his eyes and tried to speak, but he was obviously too weak. Tara and the woman managed to get him into her car’s backseat, and they drove to the hospital through the pouring rain.

As soon as the hospital’s staff had the man in hand, Tara asked them to take a look at the woman too, who was shivering from shock and exhaustion, then she allowed herself to sink into one of the waiting room chairs.

A while later, a tall young doctor came over and asked if she had been the one who’d brought the older couple over. “Yes,” Tara said. “Are they alright?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

“Thanks to you!” said the doctor with a smile. “Mrs. Smythe told me what you did. Her husband had internal bleeding, and another half an hour would have been too late. We’re also treating Mrs. Smythe for shock and hypothermia.”

“Mrs. Smythe, that’s the lady’s name?” asked Tara. “And they are going to be alright?”

“Yes, you saved their lives,” said the doctor, casting Tara an admiring look. “You’re a hero!”

“No,” said Tara. “Mrs. Smythe is the hero. She walked five miles in the rain to get help for her husband, and she never gave up!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

As it turned out, Mr. Smythe was the owner of the local TV station, and his news team told the story of how Tara lost her job to save two lives. Mr. Anderson was mentioned by name, and his boss fired him for casting the company in a bad light.

When Mr. Smythe discovered that Tara was a semester away from her journalism major, he hired her as a junior reporter. She was earning a lot more than she had at the service station and doing what she loved.

Rumor has it that Tra has been dating a handsome young doctor she met in an emergency room one dark and stormy night, and he might be on the verge of popping the question…

What can we learn from this story?

  • Never deny a person in need of help. Mr. Anderson wanted to run Mrs. Smythe off because she was dirty and he thought she was poor and homeless and it ended up costing him his job.
  • Life rewards the kindest hearts. Tara risked her job to help Mrs. Smythe but got the job of her dreams and met a wonderful man.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who discovers his youngest son isn’t his and keeps the secret his whole life.

Our Landlady Threw Us Out to Give the Upgraded Apartment to Her Sister — But Fate Quickly Taught Her a Harsh Lesson 5 days ago

It was like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I could barely speak, barely think. Chris, who had been listening in, immediately took the phone from me, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

“Mrs. Johnson, there has to be another way,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve put so much into this place. It’s our home.”

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Johnson replied, sounding genuinely sorry, “but Lisa’s family. She’s all I have left, and she’s in such a desperate situation… I can’t turn her away.”

What could we do? She’d made up her mind, and no amount of pleading was going to change that.

The next few weeks were a blur of packing boxes, canceled subscriptions, and trying not to break down every time I walked past a spot we’d lovingly restored.

The hardest part was leaving behind the memories we’d woven into every inch of that apartment—the late-night painting sessions, the laughter, the quiet moments of contentment.

Our new place was… well, it was a roof over our heads, and that was about all I could say for it.

It was smaller, darker, and lacked any of the charm that had made our old apartment so special. But Chris and I did what we always did—we made the best of it. We hung our pictures, arranged our furniture, and tried to pretend that everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

A few weeks after the move, I ran into Mrs. Patterson, one of our old neighbors, at the grocery store. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling.

“Lisa’s been telling everyone how thrilled she is with the renovations in your old place. Said it was like moving into a brand-new apartment!”

My blood ran cold. Thrilled with the renovations? Wasn’t she supposed to be too distraught to care? Something didn’t add up, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, replaying every conversation, every detail. There had to be more to this story, and I was determined to find out what it was.

Over the next few days, I started digging. I talked to a few other neighbors, asked some subtle questions, and pieced together a picture that made my blood boil.

Lisa hadn’t lost her job or her apartment. She’d manipulated Mrs. Johnson, using her sister’s kindness to get her hands on our beautifully renovated space. She hadn’t lifted a finger, but she’d swooped in and stolen the fruits of our hard work.

When I confronted Chris with what I’d found, he was furious—just as I’d expected.

We’d been used, betrayed by people we thought we could trust. Everything we’d built, everything we’d cherished, had been taken from us in the most underhanded way possible.

As we sat in our new, unremarkable living room, the weight of it all pressed down on us like a suffocating blanket. We were angry, yes, but more than that, we were heartbroken.

And it only got worse.

You ever hear something so downright ridiculous, that you just have to laugh? That was me and Chris when we first heard what Lisa had done to our old place.

I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried. But there it was, delivered straight to us by the neighborhood’s most reliable source of gossip—Mrs. Thompson, who, bless her heart, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

We were at the grocery store, of all places, when we ran into her.

“Judith! Chris!” she said, her voice tinged with that mix of excitement and pity that only someone like her could pull off. “You’ll never believe what Lisa’s done with your old apartment!”

My stomach dropped. I’d been trying so hard to move on, to not think about that place, but here she was, ready to spill the latest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, though. It was like picking at a scab you know you should leave alone.

Chris, beside me, stiffened, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. He knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good.

Mrs. Thompson leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s turned your beautiful kitchen into a metal workshop! Welding and all sorts of things, can you believe it?”

For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. A metal workshop? In our kitchen?

Chris let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. He looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, but also something else—a strange, grim amusement. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”

My mind was reeling, trying to picture the damage.

It was infuriating, but there was something almost… poetic about it, too. She wanted our place so badly, and now she was destroying it piece by piece.

Mrs. Thompson, bless her, was still talking. “Mrs. Johnson’s beside herself, poor thing. She tried to get Lisa to leave, but you know how family is. Lisa won’t budge.”

Later that night, Chris and I sat on the couch watching TV. We hadn’t said much since the grocery store, both of us lost in our thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.

“Do you think she’s ruining it on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just that careless, or maybe she’s trying to wipe away any trace of us. Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”

I nodded, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

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