This is My Story ( Continued ) - Part 3

I jumped out of the Wagoneer to check out the right rear tire. It was fully deflated but was not blown out. I noticed a much larger gravel area across the lanes where no cars or trucks were parked. There wasn't much traffic and I had already rolled the deflated tire too far so I decided to not move the Wagoneer to not risk further damage to the tire.

It was very, very hot as I began to change the tire, so I was sweating and panting like a dog. My sister was trying to help but she was jumping all around and basically aggravating me. I finally got the vehicle jacked up to get the tire and wheel off. I had the spare off the outside tire rack and ready to mount. Then I saw a red sedan, a Buick or Pontiac or something similar, pull over across the lanes to the large gravel area. I went back to work but my sister was bugging me about the red car. I finally told her to go over to see if they might need some help. She took some cokes from our ice box to offer them something to drink. She came back and said the two ladies in the car were hot and were glad we had something to drink. She said they had only stopped to let their engine cool off and then they would go. I said that didn't make any sense to me. I told my sister to go back over and tell them I would look at their car as soon as I finished the tire change and be careful crossing that Interstate.

Soon I finished and I crossed the Interstate. The first thing I noticed was a wheel chair folded up behind the drivers seat. The young lady driving rolled down her window so we could talk, and I saw the hand controls installed so she could drive a car. The driver said the engine temperature gauge went to hot so they pulled over as soon as they found a pull out to let the engine cool. I told her I better look under the hood because it might take a long time to cool. When she popped the hood, I noticed both ladies were already hot and sweating. I was dehydrated and very hot and exhausted myself.

I asked her to start the engine. The engine compartment was very tight, but I finally found a place where I could see the radiator and fan. It was NOT turning. I explained to the driver that they must have thrown a belt. She said she recently had the fan belt replaced. I told her they probably put the belt on too tight and that prematurely wore out the belt. No cell phones then, and no service stations for many miles in either direction. As I pondered the options, it hit me. I had spare Wagoneer belts in my vehicle. So I sent my sister across I-10 to get them. The odds were that nothing I had would fit, But I was busy trying to figure out how to get any belt over the fan and crankshaft pulley. I picked out a belt from my sister's hands and squeezed it over the pulleys and under a idler wheel. It actually fit, but it was very tight. My sister ( ah - youth ) was already running across the interstate to get my plastic sandwich bag with a few basic tools I kept in the car. I was able to loosen the idler pully bracket, and got the proper tension on the belt. Now I was confident that these two ladies could make home to Phoenix. I went to the drivers window and she was writing a check. I said NO WAY ,please, NO Check. I said maybe she could take us out to dinner when we were in Phoenix ( a little silly ). I have no idea who they were only that they really needed help. Then they were off and we were off in opposite directions both with vehicle air conditioners blasting.

As the miles passed by I felt really good about helping these young ladies, but I began asking myself " how did that happen".

I am a graduate engineer with a bachelor and master degrees. I had minors in math and economics, and many statistics classes. I was, however, having difficulty logically explaining to myself what had happened and how. The probabilities of a certain event happing at a certain time would be one chance in several million, but what about two, three, four or five events coming together as they had. That would be one chance in a number

larger than we are capable of expressing. In other words these events couldn't have happened randomly. I realized that I had not only witnessed a miracle but I had been an active participant in it.

I was called ! This was my calling.