A couple of years ago I had a frightening experience on a motorway between Lagos and Ibadan, in Nigeria. I was driving my mother's old car back from a job interview, alone, in the late afternoon.
About halfway there, the car started making a loud knocking noise, and then the engine just died. I managed to steer onto the hard shoulder, but my phone was almost out of battery, and it was getting dark. That stretch of road is quite isolated, and I was genuinely scared, because I'd heard stories about people being robbed there.
After about twenty minutes, a man in a pickup truck pulled over. My first instinct was to lock the doors. But he stayed by his own vehicle and called out that he was a mechanic and that I looked as if I needed help. His name was Biodun. He had a quick look under the bonnet, told me the fan belt had snapped, and then, amazingly, he found a spare one in his truck that almost fitted. He worked on it for half an hour with a torch in his mouth, refused to take any money, and then drove behind me for twenty kilometres to make sure the car didn't break down again.
I felt overwhelmed with gratitude, and a bit ashamed that I'd been suspicious of him at first. His kindness changed how I think about strangers. It's easy to believe the bad stories, but most people are decent if you give them a chance. I didn't get his number, sadly, but ever since then, if I see someone stuck by the roadside, I always stop.