Do Angels Drive Pickups?

Posted by admin

November 28, 2008

Glen May was coming home from his work shift and turning off the interstate when he hit an abandoned car, just sitting on the side of the ramp. It was three in the morning and, of course, no other cars were anywhere in sight. “I had slammed my head against the windshield, and the blood was pouring,” Glen said. “I took off my t-shirt to stem the flow.” He was feeling weak, and wondered if he would bleed to death before any help came.

Just then, to his relief, a pickup truck pulled up behind him. “Need a ride?” the driver called.

“I live about a mile down this road,” Glen answered. “If I could get home…”

“Well, sure. Hop in.”

Relieved, Glen did. The stranger seemed kind, although the two men barely spoke. Glen did notice that the pickup truck was a very old model. If he’d felt better, he might have asked the driver how he managed to keep it in such good repair. But he was tired and hurt and didn’t feel much like talking. Finally Glen directed the driver over to the gate of his complex. “Thanks so much,” Glen said. “Do you work around here?”

“At the service station about a mile from where you crashed,” the stranger said.

“Oh yes, I know it.” Glen opened the pickup door. “Thanks again, friend.”

“You’re welcome.” And the stranger drove off.

During the following week, Glen had his cut attended to, and his car towed into his own garage to be fixed. When he finally got some free time, he went to the service station where the stranger had said he worked, to thank him again. “As I pulled up,” Glen says, “I got a funny feeling. There was a pickup truck in the lot, sitting up on blocks, all dusty and looking like it hadn’t been used in years.” Despite the cobwebs, it appeared identical to the old vehicle his rescuer had been driving.

Glen went inside, and asked if there was an employee who drove a truck like that one. “There WAS a guy that drove it,” the proprietor told Glen. “But he died a long time ago. And no one has driven it since.”

“But….” It sounded bizarre, but Glen was growing more convinced that this was the same truck. The proprietor noticed his confusion.

“Check out that picture on the wall,” he said. “That’s the owner of the truck.”

Glen went over to the picture, and chills ran through his body. It was the man, the same man that had rescued him, perhaps even saved him from death the week before. There was no doubt at all in his mind.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Glen says today. He doesn’t know why he was blessed with heavenly help, whether saint or angel. But he is grateful, and has never felt quite so alone since.