I had watched Dad carefully and helped him so that by the time we finished I had felt that I could change a tire in an emergency. “Okay then,” my sister said. “Let’s take a look in the trunk and see what we can do. I’m sure a spare tire came with the car.”

As she opened up the trunk I immediately recognised the tools that dad had used when changing the tire on his own car. Everything we needed seemed to be there and although I knew we’d have to jack the car up first, I pulled the heavy lug wrench out of the trunk to see if I could loosen the screws that held the tire in place. I vaguely remembered that dad had pushed down on the lug wrench with his foot when removing those stubborn nuts and bolts that held his tire in place.

I hooked the lug wrench onto the bolt that held the tire on the rim of the Mustang and the lug fit perfectly. So far, so good, I thought with delight. But then, when I tried turning the wrench, it wouldn’t budge.

Together my sister and I heaved and pushed and stomped down on the wrench but it wouldn’t give - not even one fraction of an inch! Finally, after struggling for 15 or 20 minutes got back into the car exhausted and disheartened. We kept the emergency blinkers going

in hope that someone would stop and help. “What time is it?” I asked.”Midnight,” she said, looking at her watch.” The bewitching hour,” I said. “Yes,” she smiled. “I really miss dad, don’t you?” — Beliefnet.com