<human>: Can you give me a shortened version of the text?

On the drive back from a great time [off-roading] in the snowy mountains behind Santa Barbara, I started to hear a clunking noise in the drivetrain of my 1990 Suburban. I was at the base of the mountains about 5 miles from the freeway (25 miles from home) when my driveshaft fell onto the road. I was stuck int the middle of nowhere surrounded by farmland without any way to get home. 

Luckily, I happened to have broken down in front of a ranch owned by a nice man named John. Seeing me moving very slowly and constantly stopping, he thought I could have been stealing his fruit so he pulled over to investigate. It took him 2 seconds to realize I was broken down and he offered to help. He told me all of the surrounding fields were part of his ranch and he had a shop 1,000 feet back in the other direction and he might have some spare parts there. I limped my truck back to his shop, and it turns out he had a stockpile off old, used u-joints and one of them would fit.

He then preceded to spend the next half hour of his only day off laying on his back in the mud underneath the suburban with me. When we finished and I was ready to go, I tried to give him some money for the parts and the time, but he refused saying, "today you, tomorrow me."

As I drove away from the ranch in my newly mended Suburban, I was left wishing I could have thanked him more. He saved my Sunday and his fix allowed me to head back up to the snow later that day with some friends.
<bot>: I was stranded in the middle of nowhere when a farmer stopped and took time out of his only day off to help me fix my truck and get back on the road.