When I was a little kid, I loved to see dump trucks. I don't remember exactly how old I was then, but probably in the first grade or a little younger. I would often stand alone by the side of the road near my house and watch them passing for a while. My favorites were the ones with a big cool emblem on both doors. They came from, I guess, a trucking company in a neighboring town.

One day, when I was standing there as usual, a big truck with the very emblems pulled over in front of me. Surprisingly enough, the driver opened the passenger-side door, and offered to let me in. I jumped for joy. He drove me around the neighborhood, stopped by a small store, and bought me an an-pan (a Japanese bean-jam bun). Then, he brought me back to where I was. As a kid, I felt it was like - a dream of mine came true.

I don't remember if I told my parents about that. And sadly, I can't remember the face of the kind truck driver, either. If that happened now, he could be suspected of a possible kidnapping attempt or something. But, oh, those were the days. And now I honestly thank him for giving me a wonderful memory of my childhood.

Merry Christmas! (from a Christmas-Day-only Christian)