Jan. 2, 2013 – South Lake Tahoe, Calif. to Sacramento

“Sorry, kid. I’m not heading to Sacramento.”

Tired, phoneless, and without a debt card, I had just approached Rich outside the gas station for a ride out of this snowy town. After giving me the once-over, he said he couldn’t help.

I thanked him and headed over to the snow bank to regroup and make a plan. But I wasn’t there two minutes before I heard that same voice behind me.

“Hey kid, I actually am heading near Sacramento,” Rich revealed. “I don’t usually give people rides, but you look like you could use some help.”

I thanked him, hopped aboard, and introduced myself.

Rich was a good listener, but an even better storyteller. At 38, the longtime plumber had just bought a property in Tahoe and was planning on moving there from San Francisco with his wife and two young children before summer.

I was almost moved to tears as he told me about his father. For 29 years, Rich was raised believing he had no dad. His parents had split before he was born, and neither Rich nor his mother had heard a word since.

As it turned out, Rich’s grandfather had been shutting down any contact from the man for years, believing he was acting in the best interest of his daughter and grandson.

When Rich found out the truth about his dad, he spent months trying to find him. After a long and difficult search, he succeeded. His story climaxed dramatically as he detailed that emotional first phone call.

Like so many drivers over the past two months, Rich prefaced his story with “I can’t believe I’m telling this to a total stranger.” But the transient nature of these car rides so often had that effect – conversation moved swiftly to meaningful topics.

Rich dropped me off about 30 miles outside Sacramento. I had no idea where I was, no sense of time, and only a few dollars to work with. After some significant deliberation at McDonald’s, I caught some public transit into town in hopes of finding some shelter.