From the August 2018 magazine.

Truck stop angel

It’s the middle of the night, her car has died and she’ll miss her flight. How will she ever make her son’s wedding?

When my son married some time ago, I promised him I’d be at his wedding in St. Petersburg, Florida. My journey there from where I lived at the time in a small town in New Mexico was quite interesting. I left my home at midnight to drive the six hours to Denver to catch a flight to Tampa at 9:00 a.m. the morning of the wedding. 

It was November, cold and cloudless, and I nearly drove off the highway while looking at the brilliant night sky on display. I stopped at a truck stop at 3:00 a.m. for coffee and to stretch my legs. I ordered coffee to go and peered at the turquoise jewelry for sale near the cash register, paid for my coffee and returned to my prized 1975 Camaro. But much to my surprise and chagrin, the car was dead. It didn’t even make a clicking sound when I turned the key in the ignition. I was baffled, as it had been running just fine for some time. I had no warning that it would suddenly die.

-- Patricia B.

Oceanside, California

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