Steve was on his way home the other night, when he noticed a blind man walking with bags of groceries.
One of the man's bags ripped and his groceries scattered all over the sidewalk.
Steve pulled over.
(Meanwhile, a young woman blasted her horn at him vexed that she had to clear 3 extra feet to pass Steve. Steve glared at her, motioning impatiently at her to get moving.)
When he got to the man, he felt the man's un-gloved hands were freezing.
Other than the sub-zero temperatures outside,
one of the plastic bags had twisted around the man's wrist stopping blood from circulating.
Steve collected the blind man's groceries and offered to drive him home.
When they got to the place, Steve carried the groceries up to the house.
When he led the man out of the car, the man felt his way around with his cane and then told Steve that they were in the wrong place.
Perhaps faulty driving directions were the result of the blind man not used to being driven around.
So Steve loaded the man and the groceries back into the car and finally got him to the right address.
He carried the bags up flights of steps--past a menacing man staring at them in the stairwell of the building--and got the man settled in his darkened apartment.
This is why I love Steve.