“When I was 17 years old my BFF (best friend forever) and I decided to take the snowmobiles out for a ride in the blizzard. We thought it would be amazing to hit some fresh forming powder and drifts. The visibility was low so we stuck to the main roads.
We ended up on a desolate road with two homes and acres and acres of farmland. As we got close to the homes, we noticed some lights, so went over to see what was going on. It turned out that the old couple living there had ventured out to the store to get food in case they got snowed in. They made the long drive and everything went fine (they had to have hit several drifts that were one to four feet tall). Things only went wrong when they slowed down to turn into the drive. They didn’t dare leave their car out because they feared a snowplow would hit it. My friend and I in full snow gear, helmets, and face masks dug the car out and shoveled the driveway, and made sure they got the car in the garage.
I thought that was the end of the story. I didn’t even mention anything to my parents. Lo and behold the next day at church this couple was there. Our church gives time for the congregation to get up and talk about their beliefs/faith-building stories. Sure enough, the old man got up and started telling everyone about their trip to the store last night. He talked about getting stuck and worrying he would never get his car unstuck and destroyed by a snowplow. He then said two angles appeared, barely spoke, unstuck his car, and disappeared as quickly as they arrived. He said that he had been pleading for some help but figured it could never arrive because no one ever traveled that road. My mom looked at me and knew it was me. She didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything.”