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Wednesday, 06 March 2013

Who Could It Have Been?

By Joyce Benedict

A dear friend lived a 45-minute drive from my apartment in a small town in the upper Mid-Hudson Valley of New York. We met often - her place or mine. Both of us had been several years out of our marriages and we would have very lengthy discussions concerning the adjustments to single living, what had gone wrong in our marriages and coping with the rising costs of living.

I always left her place early to get home before dark. However, this one night we chatted into the wee hours of the morning. It was 2:15AM and a long drive home.

She suggested I sleep in her daughter’s room since she was in college. I never sleep well in another place and love my own bed. I opted to head for home.

Route 9 driving home was never so still. It was eerie. Old fears were welling up and being alone on this road at this time of night was not comfortable.

I was approaching a particularly deserted stretch of highway. I had just crossed a bridge when suddenly, going at 55 miles an hour, all the lights in my car went out. No street lights, just a very dark highway and night. I barely could see the side of the road to pull over.

A few lights twinkled far away in a residential area. I sat there stunned. Panic seeped into every pore. What should I do? Walk the mile to a shopping plaza to find a phone? Who to call? Who could come? What if there was no phone? Was it safe to walk alone on this deserted highway?

I tried the lights. Nothing. Had a minute passed? Two? Suddenly, there was a tap on my window. A young man was there. He seemed to be in late 20s. He had an old hat on, like a ‘50’s business man’s hat and an old suit jacket. I really didn’t see his face. It seemed in a shadow. Where did he come from? Never mind. Here was help.

He said, “Your lights are out. Would you release the hood?” I did. In almost a twinkling of an eye after the hood was raised they all came on again.”

Relief flooded me and the fatigue that follows fear and distress set in. The hood came down with a thud. I reached for my purse to give him a few dollars. I turned towards the opened car window and he was gone. In a split second. Gone!

It wasn’t until I got halfway home, so terribly relieved at my good fortune, that it dawned on me I had seen no one when I pulled off to the side of the road. There had been no cars, no lights. Who would be out on a darkened, major highway a good mile from houses at 2:45AM?

The lights had all gone out in a second and in a twinkling they had all come on. I began to think that my young friend was of another world. I realized it had to have been an angel.

Several years have passed. I have asked men, mechanics, what would make all my lights go out while driving? What could a person have done to get them all working instantly? I have never received a reasonable answer.

I believe angelic messengers had shut them off to alert me so that i could experience their help in such times of fear and stress.

Have we not read of so-called nurses, doctors, strangers showing up at accidents to give aid only to disappear as help arrives? When medical crews are inquired about such a person they have no knowledge of anyone that fits the description of the “angelic rescuer.”

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Wow, your story had my heart racing. What a vivid description of one's worst nightmare.

And that's the part before the angelic rescuer came along. Then the story turns into something out of "The Twilight Zone." Bravo!

I've never believed in angels, but your story makes me wonder if they aren't there when some people are in dire situations. Thanks for sharing.

Who knows what GOOD lurks in the dark? That's an amazing story, and you told it very well!

Gripping story, well-told. I had a far less dramatic appearance of a young man who followed me off the exit to fix my flat tire that he had noticed. I have always called him an angel--only half-joking. It was daylight and a hot, hot day so closing the windows was not an option-had to trust that he wouldn't hurt or rob me.Turns out he was a musician, too, and when he saw the sound system in the trunk, we were buddies. Wouldn't take a cent.

No doubt. Angel. You never need to understand these things, just accept them. You have indeed been blessed.

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