Towing, wood and tamales. Selling my soul via the braggard route

Published 1:30 am Tuesday, March 31, 2026

I’m going to do a bit of bragging and offer you the secret to life.

I’m not wont to talk myself up, it’s kind of one of my rules, but sometimes, you have to break a rule.

When you brag about something you’ve done, you lose all the treasures that lift you up to Heaven when it is your time. So, I’m going to lose all that and likely end up in a place I deserve.

My other rule in life goes hand-in-hand: The key to life is helping others, but you have to keep it a secret. When you help others, for all the right reasons, you actually gain more than you give in some way — every time. You might not know right away, or ever, but it is a truism.

Last Thursday I was taking my dog Billy to the beach in Ocean Shores, driving down to our usual haunt up a small stream just south of the Quinault casino. It is usually empty and we have the spot to ourselves.

On our way to our beach paradise, there was a two-wheel drive stuck in the sand, a common occurrence. Another car had stopped, and two women were trying to help. They waved. I stopped and looked at the situation.

“You’re going to need to call a tow company,” I told the frazzled female driver, acknowledging my lazy nature to myself. She winced, her hands shaking, extremely upset.

She said she didn’t have the money. So I asked the two women trying to help if they could pay. I offered to split the cost with them. They too claimed poverty, and as your humble newspaperman, I obviously can’t afford much. Reluctantly I got out of the truck and had the women pull some sticks they had thrown under the wheels, while clearly not helping. I had the driver straighten out her wheels.

All three of us pushed from the front, but the woman gunned it, turned her wheels sideways, and started spinning, digging deeper into the sand. I asked her to stop, and take two deep breaths. She was in a panic. I told her no spinning allowed, it just makes the situation worse. We dug her car out again (well, the two women did; I’m lazy).

It worked, she got free and drove down the beach.

Putting up treasures in Heaven, one stuck car at a time.

Saturday about noon this weekend, Billy and I again headed for our favorite beach spot. There was a Hispanic couple camping in a small tent, the wind was blowing and they had a small fire going, and were trying to chop up some wet beach wood.

A few weeks earlier I had found some wood on the beach — nice chunks of cedar with some kindling to boot, and threw it in the truck bed. I drove up to the couple and offered the wood. He didn’t speak English, I’m not sure he understood, but his wife did. They unloaded the wood with the brightest of smiles. She was also cooking something over the fire. I thought it might be surf perch, so I asked. It was tamales, one of my favorite foods.

She offered me a four-pack, which she made herself.

Helping others has its rewards.

We went home and had a tamale and a nap — perfect. Soon my neighbor knocked on my door and invited me over for dinner at 5 p.m. He’s a great man, but I am a bit of a hermit and really just wanted to keep napping, and then head out to the beach before the sun set as the wind was finally slowing down. But I went to his house, just across the street.

It was the best meal I’ve had in some time. All homemade. Caesar salad made with lemon, parmesan cheese and anchovies. The main meal was pasta with cheeses and tomato and sweet sausage. He offered up a bottle of red blend that cost $72. Plus he has two black labs — Smith and Wesson — who are in love with Billy.

I dismissed myself after some fine conversation to go back to the beach with some dry firewood I had laying around at my fire pit.

The Hispanic couple again was gracious and thankful, although they had scavenged some beach wood and the fire was roaring. She offered me more tamales. I declined, trying to keep my universe in order. Three young boys piled out of their SUV. Billy had escaped out of my truck and the boys and Billy played and played. A perfect day.

Sunday morning, being the have-no-life man that I am, Billy and I again headed for our beach spot. After Billy took care of business (one of the reasons to take the dog to the beach), we decided to take a drive on the beach from in front of the casino south to the Ocean Shores Jetty.

On the way there, a huge, lifted Ford truck came screaming by, with two Bubbas. They stopped before the jetty. I trucked on. On my way back, I passed the Ford, now stuck in the sand. I stopped, said, “What’s up?”

Their four-wheel drive broke, and they were stuck in the sand under the now two-wheel drive.

They asked for a tow.

Being lazy, I suggested the tow truck route, and said, “Anyone with a big expensive truck like that can afford one.” Plus, I said I’m poor and can’t afford to have my bumper yanked out. The Ford looked heavy. They smiled, a friendly pair of cousins I later found out, and said they understood.

So I left, went about a half mile and noticed the tide was coming up. Guilt took over and I reluctantly backtracked, and pulled up to the stuck truck.

“Do you have chains?” I asked, hoping for a negative. They had a chain. After a try where I started to spin my wheels, I pulled them out. The driver tried to shove two $20s into my face. Being uncouth, I stared the burly man in the face with a smile and said, “(Expletive) you!”

Now I was really feeling great. I went home and had another tamale. A great weekend.

It’s now Monday afternoon at The Daily World headquarters. I’m eating the third of four tamales as I type this. Yummy chicken with a red sauce.

Helping others with no expectations offers a reward that can’t be bought; it is good for your soul. Unless you talk about it. Then it takes a bit of the soul back. Hello hell.

Michael Wagar is the editor of The Daily World. He can be reached at michael.wagar@thedailyworld.com and 360-269-7979.