“God must’ve put you in my car.”  

That’s something Bill Sumiel and Tim Letts certainly agree on. 

The two men had never met, and when Sumiel, who is now a patient at the University of Delaware’s Renal Rehab Program, got into Letts’ Uber one fateful day in October of 2020, in Vineland, New Jersey, the two never imagined the relationship that would unfold.  

Sumiel shouldn’t have been there that day. He had a complication following what’s normally a routine procedure to have a clot removed from his dialysis access point and had to return the next day for a repeat de-clotting. 

Letts, who drove for Uber on the weekends to make some extra cash, should have never been that far north the day he picked up Sumiel at the Vascular Institute in Vineland. 

“I was coming from Cape May and was way north of Vineland already when I got the ride request, and not only did this trip bring me backward in the opposite direction but also further out of my way,” Letts said. “In retrospect, it was an absolute God moment. There’s no question about why the Uber app that has an algorithm designed to make things convenient took me so far out of my way.” 

Letts had begun the 40-minute trek to Sumiel’s home in Salem, New Jersey, and the two engaged in casual conversation “like two guys that knew each other.” 

“I was asking him questions about himself as a person, and he had no idea why,” Letts said. “Maya Angelou says to ‘Be a rainbow in someone’s cloud,’ and that’s who Bill was at that moment for me, even if he didn’t know it yet.” 

Sumiel told Letts he had type 2 diabetes and suffered from kidney failure. He had been on dialysis three days a week for years and needed a transplant. 

“I told him that my son wanted to offer me one of his kidneys, but doctors didn’t want to take his because of his weight and the hereditary nature of the disease,” Sumiel said.  

Sumiel had been on the transplant list for years, but due to his age and deteriorating health, getting a kidney from the United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS) wasn’t a strong possibility. With help from his family, the former Salem City Council president started a social media campaign to share his story in hopes of getting a living donor.

Letts, a then 31-year-old Army veteran, was so impressed by Sumiel’s story and lifetime of community service, he said aloud in the car: “I don’t drink or smoke, so I’d probably be a great donor.”  

Sumiel didn’t quite know what to make of that comment. As they pulled up to Sumiel’s home, and he got out of the car, Letts said words that would change Sumiel’s life: “Take my name and number. I’d like to offer you a kidney.”

Sumiel was shocked.

“I know we had a good conversation, but I was not expecting that,” Sumiel said. “He seemed so sincere. I was shaking so badly I could barely write down his name and number.”

Letts could see he caught Sumiel off guard, and it made him want to donate his kidney even more.  

“The thought that I could be somebody that could give him a kidney was so far removed from his mind, it wasn’t even a thought,” Letts said.

Letts, whose Uber conversations don’t usually get this personal, had always wanted to donate a kidney, but until that fateful day, never found the right person — someone who “checked all the boxes.”

“I asked him what he did for fun, and he said, ‘serving his community.’ Bill makes a difference in everyday life. He’s somebody that I wanted to give a few extra quality years to,” Letts said. “He was somebody who I felt like was a version of myself. He cares about other people relentlessly. He just impressed me as a human being, and good people need good people to stand by them.” 

Letts said Sumiel’s age, 71 at the time, was also a factor for him.

“Others I encountered were good people, but they were younger. Their opportunities to receive a kidney were far greater than Bill’s,” Letts said. “I wanted to give quality time back to somebody who gives quality time to other people. His options were literally just me or nothing at that point.”