When I was a teenager I worked at a local ski area parking cars. Every weekend I drove my '92 Blazer to the ski hill at 5am, clocked in, parked cars in the freezing cold, then drove a shuttle bus until the afternoon shift came on. I also worked on Christmas and New Year's Day since those tend to be big ski days.
One Christmas, I got off work around 2pm. I was driving home to open presents, have dinner, etc. when I came across a delivery van on the side of the road, hopelessly spinning its wheels in about 2 feet of heavy snow. It looked as if they had pulled over to get out of the way or check their map and gotten stuck.
I turned around and pulled up across the highway from them. "Need some help?" I shouted. The dirty, scruffy driver who was digging at the wheels with his foot glared at me, "No dammit! We're fine."
I got back in my car and sat and watched for a minute. He jumped in the van and took some anger out on the gas pedal, digging himself even deeper in. I calmly turned around, backed my car up to about 15 feet in front of his van, stepped out, and stood there with a tow-strap in my hand watching him.
Finally, he got out, gruffly accepted the other end of the strap from me, and hooked it up to his van. I got in my Blazer, set it to 4-Lo and pulled him out of the snow and onto the pavement in about 2 seconds flat.
"Thanks," he said. "No problem. Merry Christmas." I said as I rolled the snatch strap back up. Then he reached into his pocket, "Here. Take this.
"No way," I said. "It's Christmas. Get home safe."
"Absolutely not! It's wear and tear on your vehicle." he growled. Figuring I had probably hurt this guy's pride enough already, I just took what was in his hand, wished him a Merry Christmas again, and got back in my car. I threw the money on the seat next to me: three one-dollar bills.
I smiled and laughed all the way home. I made sure to drop those three dollar bills into the next donation box I saw.