Late one night, I was driving a group of young missionaries home from Mexico when a foul odor filled our bus.
The engine gauges showed the temperature rising fast. I pulled over and lifted the hood. A rock had punctured the radiator. Antifreeze poured onto the engine block.
The other chaperones and I led the kids outside for fresh air while we discussed options. The kids snapped photos of our predicament, but I worried. Just then, a blue Mustang pulled up behind us and a man stepped out.
“Engine trouble?” he asked. “You’re lucky I was passing by. I’m a mechanic.”
Patches on his coveralls identified his name, Jerry, and his garage, B & B Automotive, Abilene, Texas. Jerry looked under the hood, removed our radiator and said he’d be right back. “There’s a repair shop nearby.”
True to his word, he was back in no time, and reinstalled the part. He even followed us for a bit to make sure we were okay.
Back home, I called his garage to commend him. Directory Assistance connected me with B & B Automotive in Abilene. “No Jerry here,” the owner said. “Just my husband and me.”
Impossible, I thought. But I’ve since looked through all those photos the kids took. No Jerry, or his blue Mustang.
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