Sam Mott died in a tragic accident shortly before his 31st birthday. Word spread quickly, and a group of people gathered spontaneously in front of his house in town. They stood in the street as the day turned to night. Many of the people there were neighbors who had lived on the block much longer than Sam. As they talked, they realized that Sam knew every one of them very well, though they did not know each other.
He had spent time with his neighbors, listening to their stories, helping them out when he could. There was a lonely man dying of cancer whom Sam visited regularly to keep him company. There were two nurses he drank rosé wine with on their porch sometimes after they got home from their shifts at the hospital. There was a young boy who grew to love cars because Sam loved cars and he would let the boy play in the ever-changing collection of vehicles parked around his house.
He liked people and had many friends, some very close. Sam was a devoted son to his mother Kappy, and to Guy Holmes, who helped raise him.