It’s Friday at 5 p.m. You’ve just walked out the door from your workplace. In the time it takes to walk from the entrance to your car, you hear a loud noise come from inside the building. What do you do?
If you’re Colton Hobaugh, you go back inside and check to make sure everything is ok. You find your boss lying unconscious covered in blood and motor oil. You call 911 and hold him in your arms as he bleeds out all over you. When he comes to you try to talk to him and reassure him that everything is ok even though you think he’s really on his way out this time. You hand him over to the paramedics and you call his wife. You calmly explain the situation. You make sure everything that goes along with closing down the building is done after the trauma is over. You assume responsibility for all that your boss holds dear. You continuously check on him and his family even though the horrific scene is so fresh in your mind that you can barely stand to think of it.
It’s Friday at 5:30 p.m. If you’re Ricky Teets, there is no doubt you’re fixin’ to get with the guys and start raisin’ some hell. But you hear that your friend’s name has just read over the scanner. You head straight to the hospital and arrive there before anyone else. You tell his wife not to worry because you will work at the shop and take care of the business as long as he’s unable to wrench. You – big, burly, wild Ricky – draw a basin of soap and water and gently wipe the dried up oil and blood which is still covering your buddy’s entire head, face, and arms off meticulously. You reminisce about all the stupid things you’ve done together. Seeing that his have been destoyed and cut off, you offer your own clothes and shoes to him. You escort him to the bathroom. You stand at his bed side – over seven hours – until he is discharged. You escort his wife in the frozen parking lot and find her car. You get him ready to leave and you walk him out the hospital doors. You send a text an hour later offering more help if needed.
All I can say is, Bravo. I – the ever discontent, critical-eyed cynic – am thoroughly impressed. Two men with nothing to profit served my husband like bosses the other night. I’m thankful for them and for all the support of countless others throughout Tim’s accident. I guess you never realize how much people care until you qualify for a helicopter ride. From the bottom of my family’s heart, thank all of you. May God bless you in the same way you’ve blessed us.