My brother's estimated time of arrival at Glacier National Park was noon a few Fridays ago.

My ETA was uncertain, if at all, thanks to my pickup truck's uncanny ability to break down at precisely the most inopportune moment.

The morning I was supposed to leave for Glacier, I got the news that my engine's O-rings were cracked.  My truck makes the drive from Virginia to Montana but can't manage to stay intact for this important trip to Glacier.  To make the day even better: The O-rings are difficult to find and would take an untold length of time to be delivered.

Graciously, my boyfriend offered first his car, then to drive me to Glacier in his car, so I wouldn't have to worry about damaging his vehicle.  His generosity was excruciating to me because my Southern Belle manners immediately channeled my mother's voice: "Repay the favor."

And it was a huge favor.

People tend not to consider favors as traditional gifts, but I beg to differ.

One sees gift giving in society all the time: birthday party favors, bringing a bottle of wine to a dinner party and fighting about who will pay for lunch with the girlfriends.  Those manners of gift giving rotate goods, with different people hosting at different times, hence creating a cyclic movement of goods in which everyone is eventually given a gift of the same general level of worth.

But when it comes to less tangible gifts, aka favors, like the intrinsic kindness in offering me the loan of your car, how do I repay that?

I don't know when, how or if I could repay such offers.  This makes one of the things I love the most about Montana, also a thing that makes me most uncomfortable.

Not wanting to add to the gift debt of the Glacier weekend, and despite kind offers from friends, I rode my bike and walked for the week it took to get my truck fixed.  Of course, my bike tires were flat from so many months of sitting in my apartment and required a trip to the bike shop for air.  And, let's not forget that the freakishly frequent rain, on either foot or bicycle, is never enjoyable.

Overall, though, the exercise did me good.

Riding my bike with a bagful of groceries made me feel less guilty later about indulging in that batch of chocolate chip cookies.  Not to mention, bathing suit season is here, and my thighs needed a little extra work.

Now, as I sit here dry and knowing that my truck is in working order and parked outside, listening to the rain pound on the roof, I'm awash with gratitude for the many people who have been particularly nice to me in the past week or so.  I might not have accepted many gifts, but their offers didn’t go unappreciated.  They made me remember that the residents of Havre and the Hi-Line make a wonderful community and realize all over again why I am blessed to live here.