Read this shared memory of a hitchhiker trying to get home for the holidays. Back in 1972 ​ "The Firehouse Night" I'll never forget the story my brother told me after one of his classic adventures hitchhiking across the country in the 70s. He had this way of attracting both trouble and kindness at the same time. He’d been picked up by a guy driving a beat-up old station wagon somewhere out west.  The guy had already picked up another couple who had a broken motorcycle that was now on the top of the station wagon. They hadn’t gone too far when the car sputtered and died in the middle of a snowstorm. Just their luck. A local cop came by, saw all of these young people freezing on the side of the road, and shook his head like he’d seen it all before. The town was so small it didn’t even have a motel, and the snow was too thick to risk driving to the next town. So what did the cop do? He took them to the firehouse. The group of them ended up sleeping in the local firehouse, eating chili out of a communal pot with the firemen.   The others slept on cots while my brother spread his sleeping bag out on the back running board of the fire engine. He said it was one of the warmest nights he’d ever had — not because of the heat, but because of the generosity. " ​​​​​​