BY JERRY HARPT
It was 10 p.m. and the temperature was 10 degrees zero in February 1982. My wife and I with our three young children were traveling north, from Green Bay, Wis., to our home in Menominee, Mich., which was 60 miles away.
Our little car was less than reliable and it came to an abrupt halt about a mile south of the Candle Glow Supper Club in Abrams, Wis., about 40 miles from home. We tried to flag down the few motorists that passed but they were in no mood to engage in our pain. Our only escape from the evening’s doom was to walk toward the lights of the Candle Glow.
In time we reached the Candle Glow and entered with shivering bodies and flushed faces. We observed one customer at the bar along with the lady proprietor who stood behind the bar staring at us. The place seemed ready to close for the evening. I explained our problem and received her permission to use her phone and call for help.
By this time it was 10:30, and two phone calls for help proved unsuccessful. I knew that the proprietor was watching me and could sense my frustration. I wondered what she was thinking.
Before I could start my third phone call, the proprietor asked me to hang up the phone and said that she had an idea. She then said, "I am willing to let you use my car for a couple days until you get things straightened out."
I looked at her in disbelief. I remember saying something to her like, "For all you know, we could be bank robbers." Her response was more convincing and reassuring than mine. She said, "You look like a pretty nice young family to me."
The lady proprietor then asked the gentleman sitting at the bar to drive her car around to the front door and let it run awhile to warm up. In the meantime she treated us all to a pop. When the car was sufficiently warm, she wished us luck and prepared to close. We thanked her and left.
As we pulled out of the parking lot we could still see our car through the clear night air, parked a mile up the road. We didn’t know, however, that at that very moment, the proprietor of the Candle Glow was arranging to have a towing company tow our car home the next day, free of charge.
We set eyes on that special lady one other time, the following summer, when we brought her a meager box of freshly picked cherries.
We always talk about her, though, when we pass the tender little supper club on the way to and from Green Bay. We usually say something like, "There’s where that nice lady entrusted us with her vehicle for three days when the kids were small."
And we usually wonder aloud if we would do the same.