Mike was driving home after a long, exhausting business trip through Northern Arizona. The desert road stretched endlessly ahead of him, and after hours of silence, even the radio had started to annoy him.

As he rounded a bend, he noticed an elderly Navajo man walking slowly along the side of the road. The sun was hot, the nearest town was miles away, and Mike felt sorry for him.

He pulled over, rolled down the window, and asked, “Would you like a ride?”

The old man nodded quietly, climbed into the passenger seat, and settled in without a word.

Mike tried to make conversation.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

The old man nodded.

“Long walk?”

Another nod.

After a few minutes, Mike gave up. The old man simply sat there, looking around the car, studying everything with calm curiosity.

Then his eyes stopped on a brown paper bag on the seat.

“What in bag?” he asked.

Mike glanced down and smiled.

“Oh, that’s a bottle of wine,” he said. “I got it for my wife.”

The old man looked at the bag, then at Mike, then back at the road. He remained silent for a moment, as if carefully considering the value of the exchange.

Finally, with the quiet wisdom of an elder, he nodded and said:

“Good trade!”