I sure do,” I replied. “I wish he hadn’t died and I wish he were here to help us,”

I added. No sooner were those words out of my mouth when we heard the loud reverberation of a huge 18-wheeler approaching. We watched, almost in a trance, as it slowed down and pulled directly behind us on the deserted interstate highway.

For a moment we sat there, quite relieved that help had arrived and yet somewhat frightened since we didn’t have a clue whether the driver was planning to help or harm us.

We got out of our vehicle and, to our delight, the driver looked kind and fatherly — he looked like our very own father. My sister and I exchanged a surprised glance but said nothing. “Looks like you girls are in need of help,” he said. “Flat tire,” my sister replied. “We tried our best to change it!” “We couldn’t get the lug wrench to move the nuts and bolts that are holding it to the rim,” I added.

“That’s always the hardest part about changing a tire,” he said as I reached into the trunk and handed him the jack. “I tried to teach one of my daughters to change a flat tire one time and the hardest part was loosening the screws,” he said, looking at me. “But, it seems that loosening the tire wouldn’t have done you any good after all,” he added. “That jack won’t fit your model car.” Our hearts fell. What now? We wondered. “There’s a truck stop about five

miles back,” he said. “I’ll go and see if they have the kind of jack that’ll fit this little

Mustang.” — Beliefnet.com