It was around 5:40 this morning. I was at a gas station. I'd pulled up to a set of pumps, popped open the door covering the gas cap, and stepped out of my car. There were two large trucks idling behind me, but I didn't see any other cars around my immediate area. That's because the car on the other side of the island was a dark brown Mini Cooper with a black convertible top. It was completely hidden behind the double pumps, though I could and should have noticed it as I was pulling up.

I slipped my credit card into the slot, removed it when instructed, dropped it, retrieved it, entered the required info. via the keypad, inserted the nozzle into the tank, activated the pump, and clicked the lever into the bump that would allow the fuel to flow automatically, while I emptied the little garbage bag from my car into a convenient container.

To do this, I walked around the right side of the pump, and he appeared from the left, facing me as I turned around. He looked nice enough, a young man in what seemed to be his early twenties, about my height, but leaner. He appeared pleasant, well groomed, and polite. If he'd greeted me on the street I would have returned his greeting. If it was light. But it wasn't. And anybody that approaches you at a gas station is probably going to ask you for money.

"I'm not asking you for money," he said, "but I'm completely out of gas, and I have no money, and..."

And I lied.

I cut him off, and responded, "I'm sorry, but I have no cash on me. All I have is this card. Sorry."

That wasn't true. And, as I pulled away, I thought of when I'd been young and hungry. Of all the times I'd hitchhiked, and promised myself that when I was older and established that I'd never forget those years, that I'd always pick up hitchhikers. And that I'd always stop to help someone in trouble.

But times have changed. I don't remember when I stopped pulling over and asking if I could help when I saw motorists stranded on the side of the road. I live in an urban area, there are plenty of official resources available. I have kids, and responsibilities, and the company's laptop was on the back seat.

I believe that my instincts reacted faster than my brain. He had a pretty new-looking clean little car, and he was holding a modern cell phone flipped open. He was well dressed. Ergo, he was not without resources. So I lied, and when I'd finished my transaction I got back in my car, and I locked the doors, and I drove away.

When I got to work, I discussed this with a few people. They all agreed that I'd done the right thing. I contribute heavily to well-established and reputable charities. "You feel a little distressed now," said Rich, "but suppose you had a single five loose in your pocket. You reached in, pulled it out, and handed it to him. He took it with one hand, and with the other, suppose he whipped out a gun and said 'be very quiet, and hand over everything you've got.' Your wallet. All your identifying information. The laptop. All gone. How would be feeling now if that had happened? But you told him that you had no cash. You chose correctly."

Yes, I believe I did choose correctly. He wasn't stranded, he was inconvenienced. This was I-95 along the Northeast Corridor. This wasn't a Colorado mountain road.

I think I did the right thing. I did the responsible thing. I made the mature choice. "Today," as I observed to Rich, "I am officially an adult."

And, for a couple of hours, that really sucked.

But sometimes, when you're an adult, you have to voluntarily do things that suck. This was one of those times. This was the situation.

What do you think you would have done?