Angel Encounters Mini Series: Part 2. “I met Two Angels in a Mercedes Benz on a Dark Road Near Oxford.”

In the days before we all had mobile phones and satnavs, I drove north along the M40, heading home to Warwick, having visited my elderly father near Sevenoaks in Kent.

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Dusk had fallen. I looked at my petrol gauge; the marker hovered on red.

I had no hope of reaching the next services before running out of petrol.  I visualised an overnight vigil on the hard shoulder.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

In a panic I turned off the M40 just before Oxford.  I reached a hotel, pulled into the car park and went into reception to ask for directions to the nearest filling station.  Memorising the instructions, I headed away again, praying I’d arrive before it was too late.

On a dark road I realised I was lost; and then the petrol ran out.  I now know what it feels like for your car to quietly die on you, and whisper to a halt.

I sat there in the silence for minutes I feared would turn into hours, my mind numb, but dimly realising the futility of getting out and walking off in the dark to find a non-existent filling station. I had turned off my lights. I was afraid to attract attention.

Headlights swam into my vision; a car approached and stopped. I feared the worst.

A young couple emerged from the car. No threat, no judgement, just sympathy. They listened to my story, gave me a lift to the nearest filling station to buy petrol, returned me to my car, so I could replenish the tank, then waited to see me safely off on my journey. I must have thanked them several times over.

Throughout the whole incident they were gentle, gracious, wholly accepting and totally non-judgemental. No “shame you didn’t check your gauge before getting onto the motorway” or “bet you won’t let yourself run out of petrol again after this.”

As I drove away, I noticed their car was a Mercedes Benz.

Ever since then, whenever I remember that young couple who helped me, I think of them as angels.

What do you think? Angels? Or “just” nice people? (And should there be a “just” in there?)

And by the way, I have also never run out of petrol again.

What do you think?

Do you believe in angels?

Have you an experience to share? Please share in the comments below.