My car died in a parking lot in Ohio. I opened the hood and looked at the engine with great authority, so that anyone watching would understand that here was a man who did not know what he was looking at. A truck stopped within four minutes. He did not ask whether I needed help. He asked, "Red to red?", then answered himself, connected the cables, started my car, and coiled the cables back up. It was finished so quickly that I had not yet finished preparing my face. I reached for my wallet. He put a hand up. Not offended. Just done. I offered him money. He said no. I offered to buy him lunch. He said no. I offered him my watch, and I say that with a straight back, because a debt of that size does not evaporate simply because the creditor is in a hurry. He looked at the watch. He looked at me. He said, "Just pay it forward, man." Pay it forward. I stood in that parking lot for some time after he left. Where I come from, a debt is a rope between two men. It is remembered at both ends. It is settled in the proper season, and until it is settled, it is carried. This man had taken the rope and thrown the other end into the future. He does not want to be repaid. He wants the debt to keep moving. He has arranged for it to be collected by a stranger who does not yet know that his car will not start, on a morning that has not happened yet. The debt is not cancelled. It is aimed. I have jump started four cars since that day. Two of them did not need it. One of them was not a car in trouble at all, and the woman was extremely gracious about the misunderstanding. I have not repaid him. I am no longer certain the debt can be repaid, and I am beginning to suspect that this was the entire point, and that I have been recruited.