Heading east on Scholls Ferry Road, I started running through some of the questions I wanted to ask Pilots coach Eric Reveno at the end of Wednesday’s practice.

As the road swung to the north near Washington Square, I stopped for a red light where Scholls Ferry intersects with the northbound Highway 217 off ramp.

That’s when I spotted him.

He was standing at the top of the exit ramp on the shoulder, facing the oncoming traffic and away from me, so I couldn’t see his face or what was written on the piece of cardboard that he was holding with both hands.

What caught my attention on this particularly cold December morning were the guy’s black and red jacket with a big Trail Blazers emblem on the back and his Santa hat. I mean, how often do you see people working freeway off ramps sporting a Santa hat?

I thought it was a nice touch.

As the lights changed, a women in an SUV waiting to turn left onto Scholls Ferry Road looked as if she was digging in her purse or the middle console for something to give the guy. I started to roll through the intersection and turned my attention back to the road, so I don’t know if any goodwill actually changed hands or not at that stop light.

If I had been in the SUV, I might have read the guy’s sign, but that’s about it. Beyond that, I would have busied myself with something inside the car, fiddled with the radio, stared straight ahead at the traffic light, or anything to avoid eye contact with the guy in the Santa hat with the cardboard sign.

Or maybe I would have been drawn to look at him because of that hat.

Turning at the next light onto 217, I wondered if the guy with the Santa hat was a genuine Blazers fan or if the coat was just that — a coat. If he was a fan, what did he think of his team’s 15-3 start? How about that improved bench? Which channel has tonight’s Blazers-Thunder game?

I don’t expect people who spend the majority of their waking hours on the street to know such answers, but maybe this guy would have surprised me. Maybe he would have launched into an analysis of Terry Stotts’ fourth-quarter substitution pattern and the virtues of home-court advantage in the Western Conference.

He also might not know if the ball the Blazers’ play with is pumped or stuffed.

I consider myself a charitable person, but I’m not often impulsive. Some of my favorite charities include Goodwill Industries and De Paul Treatment Centers. My wife and I also donate annually to the University of Oregon, which is more an expression of gratitude than trying to the needy.

It’s rare, but there are days when the spirit moves me to put a dollar in someone’s coffee can. The last time was a women sitting on the sidewalk outside a Starbucks downtown.

I don’t even remember what was written on her piece of cardboard.

One time, I was on my way to meet some friends downtown for coffee and I saw a guy at the corner of NW 14th and Everett holding a sign that read: “Homeless veteran.”

When I met my friends, I told them about the guy and the sign and asked them: “How long does somebody have to be on the streets before they lose their amateur status?”

We all see the people on street corners and the freeway off ramps holding signs, because they’re everywhere. No matter where I see them,  I’m reminded of the Stephen King short story “Blind Willie” about a Vietnam veteran who commutes from Connecticut to New York City and makes hundreds of dollars a day while disguised as a blind beggar. There’s more to the story than that, but that’s what I remember.

Behind every cardboard sign, there’s a story. Some of the stories are better than others, I’m sure. Heck, there’s probably a 12-part, ready-for-prime-time series standing with a sign on an off ramp somewhere in this city at this very moment.

I don’t have time to find that person.

I’m trying to get to a basketball practice.