Coffee at Wall Drug

This I Believe:

Manners are Always of Paramount Importance

It’s not like me to turn down an invitation for no good reason. So when a driver who looked to be 8 years old rolled down his window on an early morning in June and asked me if I’d like to have coffee at Wall Drug, I smiled, said yes, and for the next 300 miles we sidled up to each other like ponies going 70 miles per hour. There was no one else on the road.

I was brought up to use good manners on all occasions and with everyone. I believe good manners are always of paramount importance. I can and will talk with anyone. I am not a true New Englander. I don’t avert my eyes to strangers. It is plain rude to act as though another person does not exist.

Now 300 miles is several hours. It was a beautiful blue sky day in South Dakota. There was a new billboard every 15 miles or so announcing how many more miles it would be until we would arrive at Wall Drug. None of the signs really said what Wall Drug was- a town, a little shop or what. I think that was the idea: to pique the customer’s curiosity and lure them on, kind of like the gallant 8 year old boy driving his pony car next to my pony car.

Alas, come about 10:30 in the morning we arrived at our destination, parking side by side. Wall, South Dakota looked like a series of Wild West mini strip malls on one wide street. It was surrounded by vast emptiness.

I had my life possessions in my car, my first car, and I was moving from Rhode Island to Montana. I carefully got out of my car to keep my long skirt intact and watched the 8 year old boy awkwardly clamber out of the drivers’ seat. Funny thing was his legs looked incredibly long next to the rest of him. That’s when I realized that my host was not one person, but two! The tall party whose feet reached the pedals woke up and peeled himself off the seat. He was not just tall, but handsome and swarthy, too.

We picked the storefront that advertised, amongst other things for sale, coffee. A bottomless cup. We made our way past personalized license plates, glasses for shots, glasses for juice, and an electronic bucking bull. This was 1978. I was 21 and always ready for an adventure. They gestured me up on the electronic bull and the little boy hopped up, too, while his dad took a picture. They looked very much alike, so I knew they were father and son. They both had impeccable manners. One pulled my chair out, the other pushed it in.

The man’s name was Salvador and he was an iron worker who worked at great heights on buildings and bridges in Pittsburgh. I can’t remember his son’s name. They were on their way to see friends in California. Salvador had his son for 2 solid weeks and to make the most of it he had taught his son to drive so they could takes turns and not waste time sleeping instead of getting to California. The boy, it turned out, was really 12. He was just still small. What he lacked in stature, he made up for in manners and gallantry. After about ¾ of an hour of shooting the breeze over coffee, we wished each other safe journeys and drove off into the day. I’ve never forgotten these 2. I hope the photo that Salvador took of his son and I on the electronic bull came out well!

If I’d averted my eyes to the boy on the highway, I’d have no story to tell and I’d be a dull girl with no inner resources and poor manners. I believe that good manners are of paramount importance to living a rich life among one’s fellow souls on this earth.