It’s a balmy spring morning in March, and I’m knocking doors in California’s Central Valley. Today is Super Tuesday, when the biggest number of states hold primary elections. I’m getting out the Democratic vote for one of the hottest Congressional races in the country. In California’s “jungle primary” system, the top two vote-getters advance to the general election in November. I’m here to help ensure my candidate isn’t squeezed out by two Republicans.

Driving to my assigned neighborhood, I pass acre upon acre of fruit orchards. Oranges hang heavy from their boughs and stud the ground like bright croquet balls. This Congressional district is nearly three-quarters Latino, and many of the voters I talk with work in the fields. Registered Democrats outnumber Republicans. But it all comes down to voter turnout, and Republicans have represented this district for almost all of the last four decades.

I approach a light-blue house and ring the doorbell. I’m here to talk with a voter I’ll call Adelina. She’s in her 20s, according to my voter contact app. Her older brother, Ricardo, answers the door. He says, “She’s a night owl, so she won’t be up until 5 this evening. Actually, though, I’ve been thinking about voting for the first time.”

I say, “That’s fantastic! Tell more about that.” He gestures to a couple of folding chairs on the porch and we take a seat. I ask him, “I’m curious to know what’s important to you. If you were president of the United States, what two or three things would you change?

He says, “I think the U.S. needs to have less testosterone in its foreign relations, and should get people together and broker peace.” Wow, that’s not a response I was expecting from someone who’s never voted, but it sounds promising. I ask him what he does for work, and he says he’s worked construction, agriculture, anything he can do with his hands. Ricardo points to his toned biceps curv-ing out from his black sleeveless shirt. “I stay fit carrying 80 pound bags up and down ladders, and never have to go to the gym,” he says. “You don’t see many people around here using workout equipment, because they get all their exercise at work.”

The conversation goes in many directions as he jumps from one thought to the next. He tells me he got all Ds and Fs in high school. “Numbers and words were hard for me, but I could learn how to fix things or use a piece of machinery in a couple of hours,” Ricardo says. I say, “There are lots of different kinds of intelligence. It sounds like you’re off the charts when it comes to fixing and making things.” He mentions that he drank a lot in his younger days, but is getting his life together. He says he knows he doesn’t have a filter and says whatever pops into his head – but he’s working on changing that, because it hurts people’s feelings or makes them angry.

I ask if he identifies as a Democrat or a Republican. He doesn’t know the difference between the two parties and asks me to explain. I tell him that based on what he shared with me about wanting more peaceful relationships between countries and how he earns a living using his hands, he sounds more in tune with Democrats, who stand with working people rather than the bosses.

I tell him I’m there in support of the Democratic candidate for Congress and give him a flyer. I ask what, if anything, he knows about Congress. Nothing, he tells me. So I briefly explain the roles of the three branches of government – the president leads the federal government, Congress makes laws, the courts interpret the laws. “Oh, it’s a system of threes – that way it’s balanced!” he says with excitement. “Exactly!” I tell him. “That’s the whole idea, so no one part has too much power.”

I tell him that today is Election Day, and that he can vote at the Veterans Memorial. I pull up a picture of it on my phone, which I took the day before when I got into town, and ask if he recognizes it. “Oh yeah,” he says confidently. “In high school, me and my buddies used to drink 24-packs in the back of that building.” I say, “Awesome! You can go back to your old stomping grounds to vote, anytime before 8 tonight.”

I hesitate. California allows voters to register to vote on Election Day. However, given what he told me about having trouble with words and numbers, I worry he might have a hard time filling out the bureaucratic registration form. Since he’s never voted before, he might feel intimidated or just leave – if he even makes it to the polls. I say, “Hey, since we’re talking now, why don’t I just register you to vote online?” Ricardo says sure, so I pull up the website on my phone and walk him through the form. We enter all his information and submit it.

There’s just one catch. Since it’s Election Day, it’s too late for the registration to be in the official records at the polling site.