Last year, the night before Thanksgiving, Heni Fadhlaoui, a driver in the Stockton-Modesto area of California, got a request for a scheduled pickup the next morning. The destination? Almost three hours (148 miles) away, in Monterey. The ride was early enough that Heni was pretty sure he’d still make his Thanksgiving dinner. So he decided to accept. He never thought it would turn into a ride he’d “never forget.” Here’s the story, in Heni’s words (edited for clarity).

I pulled up to the house, and a young lady comes out. I’m like, “Are you the one going to Monterey?” She said, “No, no, no, it’s my boss.” And then an older gentleman came out. Very nice guy, very respectful. He was using a walker or a cane, and he was struggling, so I helped him to get in the car and pulled the front seat up, so there was a lot of room in the back. He was like, “Man, this is perfect. I can actually stretch my legs!” He was 6’3, 6’4, like me. And we started the conversation that way. 

He said he was going to Monterey to his sister’s to spend Thanksgiving. And he asked me, “Are you spending it with family?” So I told him, “Not my actual family. It’s my friend’s, but I call them my family, because that’s the only family that I have out here.”

He tells me he lived in Monterey before, and the look in his eyes, like, there was so much sadness. The way he was looking at every place we passed by, I think memories were taking him to different places. It seemed like he was living in Stockton by himself, and the young lady was his caretaker. I could tell he was loved, but a little lonely. He had lost his wife, probably. 

It was a sunny day, surprisingly nice for the end of November. It felt like spring. And all of that drive is beautiful. You see green fields, trees, mountains. Then you get to Monterey and see the ocean. 

He was familiar with the whole area. He kept calling out owners, ranch owners, people he knew by first and last name. So his memory was great. But sometimes he asked the same questions a few times. I deal with that with my dad as well, you know. So I answered again and again. 

When we got there, I parked, and I was trying to help him out of the car. His sister came out, gave me a hug, and she said, “Thank you for driving my brother.” It was genuine. And she was like, “This is a special day for him. He hasn’t seen his daughter for a long time, like 12 years.” His sister flew his daughter into Monterey and scheduled the ride for him so he could spend the holiday with her. 

As the daughter came out, the sister looked at my rider and asked him: “Do you recognize who that person is?” And he was like, “No.” But the daughter started getting closer and closer, and suddenly he burst into tears and gave her a hug. Honestly, it gave me goosebumps. I had tears in my eyes. Somehow I found myself just like him, even if I was in a different position, far away from my family. I just had to suck it up and not cry. 

I helped him all the way to the door, and then I left for my own dinner, driving another hundred miles, two hours, making it just in time for the meal with my friends. As we went around the table sharing what we are thankful for, I shared the story of my day. I told them: I’m thankful for having you guys around me, and let’s not forget that we have each other. Cherish that, and forget about everything else. This is what it’s all about. Getting together and being thankful for everyone around you.

I’ll never forget that ride.