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Sunday, August 9, 2009

Angel Intervention; Part One

This morning, as I sipped my cuppa tea, I was reading "Don't Kiss Them Good-bye," by Allison DuBois. When I came to chapter 3, "Angel On My Shoulder," I immediately flashed on to two incidents that happened to me as a teenager. What follows is the first of the two occurrences.

I was around 18 years old, finished with high school, still living at home (my parents were renting on the outskirts of Detroit by then), and not sure if I could ever afford the college education I yearned for. I had been working since I was 14 and was in another dead-end job that amused me not, but paid for gas and my wardrobe. At the time I was also busy sowing wild oats in the evenings after work, not to mention being decidedly snarky and not wanting to adhere to any parental rules. I regularly came home in the wee hours of the morning, getting sometimes only a few hours of sleep before I had to get ready for another workday. My car, gifted to me by Dad, was an old, green, manually steered, Duster.

My Dad warned me that I was asking for trouble as a young woman traveling by myself so late at night. When he'd give me yet another talking-to, I'd roll my eyes and tell him to stop worrying. He hated when boyfriends didn't pick me up and bring me home at a reasonable hour, as my long-time boyfriend had when I was in high school. But no one could rein me in at that time, not even Dad.

One late night, around 3 am, I was driving on Detroit's 8-mile Road, heading from the west side to the east. I remember thinking there weren't a lot of cars on the road, even unto being oddly desolate. Next thing I knew, a car had sidled up way too close to me. A quick sideways glance told me the driver was male and my gut told me he was up to no good. What happened after this all took place within a few minutes. The guy tried to push me off to the side of the road. His car's bumper actually hit the side of my car. I was terrified but held the steering wheel steady and knew it was critical to keep driving and not stop.

Out of the blue, another car came up along the other side of the man-who-was-up-to-no-good, and tried to push him out of my way with his bumper. I KNEW that it was an Angel in the second car. I KNEW I was being saved. Within a second I was free to gun the engine and get out of the dangerous situation. Heart beating fast, adrenaline pumping, I kept going and never looked back.

I never told my Dad about this incident. I did, however, tell my Ma many years after Dad had crossed over. 'course she said I never listened back then and always thought I was right. Thankfully, an Angel was there when I most definitely wasn't "right."

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