Highway Hero
By Carol A. Price-Lopata
During my third year as a speaker, giving seminars all
over the country, I was driving into
My background includes being raised by a mother and
grandmother who took great pains to teach me that families
take care of one another no matter what. I knew I could
always count on them when I was in trouble, and they knew
they could do the same.
I was driving faster than I should have been because I
desperately wanted to make it to
rains that had been predicted began to fall.
As I saw the sign telling me
away, I speeded up even a bit more, even though a few
raindrops had just begun to fall.
With no warning, I heard a boom - not too loud, but
loud enough to know it wasn’t a good sound. When I turned
off the radio to further evaluate the sound, it became
clear I had a tire problem: probably a flat. I slowed
down, knowing from high school driver’s education not to
brake hard, but knowing still that I needed to get off the
road for my safety.
On the side of the road, I looked around, saw nothing
but rugged hills, a six-lane highway and very fast traffic.
I locked the door, to be safe, and tried to figure out what
to do. I did not have a cellular phone, as they were not
that common many years ago.
Every story I had ever heard about women having bad
experiences on the side of the road in strange cities ran
through my mind like a movie reel, and I tried to decide if
I would be safer staying with the car or walking to the
next exit. It was beginning to get dark, and I truly was
becoming afraid.
My grandmother taught me as a very little girl that
things work out if you keep your head about you,
and I was trying very hard to do just that.
At that very moment, a large semi passed very fast on
my left, causing my car to shudder, and I saw that the
directional light was on, indicating he was pulling over in
front of me. I could hear his brakes squeal, as he was
braking fast and hard.
I again thought, ‘Am I safer or in more danger?’ I
could see the truck as it slowly backed up on the shoulder
of the road and decided that to be very safe, I would take
a precaution I had seen in a movie. I took out a pad in my
briefcase and wrote down the name of the trucking company
and the
my car. I put the pad with this information under the
driver’s seat just in case!
Even though it was now raining quite hard, the driver
came running back from the truck to my car and said through
my window that I had opened only three inches, that he had
seen the tire blow and would be glad to change it. He
asked for the car keys to get into the trunk; and although
I knew I was about to lose all my safety precautions, it
seemed to be my best choice. I gave him the keys. He
changed the tire and gave me back the keys. I asked him
through the three-inch opening in the window if I could pay
him for his kindness. He said, “We drivers in
in taking care of women in trouble on the highway.”
I then asked him for the name of his boss so I could
send him or her a letter relaying how wonderful he had
been. He laughed a very odd laugh and gave me the name of
his boss, a woman, and his card, which had the name of the
trucking company, the address and the phone number. I
thanked him again, and the now soaking-wet man ran back to
the truck. Gratefully, I went on to
my seminar.
Upon returning to
this man that showed an angel in a truck with the words
printed across the picture, “Highway Hero,” and sent it to
the address on the card.
It came back, addressee unknown.
I called the number on the card and got a recording
saying no such number existed. I called the city newspaper
for that town, asked for the editor, explained the dilemma
and asked that a letter to the editor be placed in the
paper thanking the driver. The editor, who had lived there
all his life, said there was no such company in that city.
He further investigated and called me back and said there
was no such business registered in
The editor went one step further. He called the state
motor vehicle bureau to ask about the license and was told
no such plate had ever been issued.
The upshot is that this man, his truck and the company
never existed, the “rescue” never happened and I must have
been dreaming.
But I know I wasn’t.
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