Some years back (late September of 2004, I think,) I had to go to Walmart up the road and was in a hurry. It was about 9:20 p.m. when I got out of there and it was quite dark and the road had not one car on it that I could see. I started out of the parking lot -- and hit the new concrete barrier that I didn't realize was there.

I don't know why I did that; I guess my mind was not on my driving? Well, my car's right front tire went flat instantly as I banged and bumped over the island and into the correct lane.

Naturally, I dirtied the air with some vulgarities, but it didn't help, of course.

My poor car limped into the driveway across the way. It was the Santa's Village Amusement Park, which had closed for the season and was completely dark. The only light was from the Walmart parking lot, and I was pretty well hidden.

Frustrated that I didn't have my cell phone with me and would have to change the tire myself, I got out the tools and started on the lugs. They wouldn't budge. I even jumped up and down on the bar. I was stuck; the only recourse I could see was going to the Wendy's on the other side of the road and trying to find a pay phone or something.

As I was about to head over, feeling like a complete fool and wishing I'd been less silly, a pick-up truck pulled in behind me. Out of it hopped a short Hispanic man, who calmly took the bar from me, and without a word set about to change my tire for me. He had absolutely no trouble with the lugs, which, considering I could not budge even one lug with my body weight, surprised me.

The spare was on and the broken tire into the trunk in less than five minutes. I thanked him and thanked him. He only smiled and refused the money I offered him for his trouble. Then, still without a word, he got back into his truck, drove out of the parking lot and disappeared. It doesn't sound at all spooky, but I think my angel came to help me.

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