Meanwhile, you girls get back into the car and lock your doors. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he added. So my sister and I did as he advised, getting back into our car and locking the doors. We watched in awe as he drove the big 18-wheeler across the median to turn around.

“He looks an awful lot like dad,” I whispered. “Yes, I noticed,” my sister replied. “Almost scary,” she added in a hushed tone. “I know — even his voice sounds the same. Did you notice that?” I asked. “I did,” she replied. “And how many times over the years did dad tell us to lock our doors when we went out somewhere?

“Too many to count,” I said. “In fact, he was almost obsessive about it!” My sister nodded in agreement. After about twenty minutes the trucker returned with the right equipment, quickly changed the tire, and left us the new jack. We offered to pay him for the jack and for his help, but he refused.

“No,” he said firmly. “You girls just be safe. In the future, try to get home earlier,” he smiled. “And, always remember to keep your car doors locked,” he added as he jumped back into his truck.

Of course it was a very dark night and there were only headlights reflecting light on the man who looked so much like our very own dear father.

Perhaps if it had been daylight we would have seen no resemblance at all. Yet his voice was so similar to our dad’s that we almost told him how much we missed him. — Beliefnet.com