An Unlikely Guardian Angel in an Aviation Jacket

An Unlikely Guardian Angel

As I was kneeling down to wrench the second bolt from the hubcap, a deep voice said, “Here, I’ve got something that will work better.” I looked up into the face of an angel with a white beard, wearing an aviation leather coat.

1994

Our breath rose in small clouds of steam as we stood side by side to stare at the deflated tire. We had only gone about a mile from the university but the frigid air, with a record low temperature of negative 12, and a windchill factor of negative 51, made the short walk back unimaginable. Fortunately, we had managed to stop near a gas station, so the four of us ran into the small store.

“You havin’ some problems?” the station attendant remarked.

“Yes, our tire’s flat,” my college roommate, Courtney, answered.

“I can see that from here,” he replied.

An awkward silence followed. Finally, Courtney ventured, “Would you be willing to help us find some help, or….” she listed some options for assistance. The requests were met with a blank stare. We stood there in a clump, waiting for the questions to sink in. No answer. In disbelief, we all looked at each other and filed out of the tiny store.

After some comments about Indiana hospitality and the incompetence of the station attendant, we figured out that three of of the four of us had been involved in the process of changing a tire at some point. So we started to take some action.

As I was kneeling down to wrench the second bolt from the hubcap, a deep voice said, “Here, I’ve got something that will work better.” I looked up into the face of an angel with a white beard, wearing an aviation leather coat. With gloveless hands, he proceeded to use his own gadget to remove the bolts. We all just stood there around him, shocked that someone had come to our rescue in this dangerously cold weather. Finally, Kelli managed to think enough to offer him her gloves. He took them and told us to stop standing in the cold and go sit in the car with the heat on. After we realized that he actually wanted to do the job for us, we decided to follow his advice and sit in the relative warmth of the car.

Because of the air, which caused exposed skin to suffer frost bite in a matter of five minutes, our angel broke up the time working on the tire with time near the heater in his own car. 30 minutes later he was finished. We all debated on what to offer him for his very much appreciated help and had gathered together some cash (a whopping seven dollars). But, after our offer, he sad it would be enough for us to just say Hi! when we saw him. In response Sheree offered him a hug, and we all joined her to give the angel, John Brown was his name, a group hug.

After some more shouted thank yous, we all piled back into the car and took off toward our original destination: the mall, just one-half mile away.

The conversation continued along the line of John Brown. We all concluded that he was definitely a guardian angel sent from God. What kind of a name was John Brown?! And the aviation jacket clinched it.

As we pulled into the right turn lane that led to the mall Courtney glanced into the rearview mirror and said flatly, “He’s following us.” No! It couldn’t be! Not our guardian angel!

But, sure enough, John’s midnight blue Nova stayed with us through the parking lot and jolted to a stop in the spot right behind us. “Surprise!” he said as we struggled from the two-door car. We all managed genuine-looking smiles and tried not to look at each other. John Brown came over to talk, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He proceeded to give us instructions on getting a tire fixed at Sears. Kelli and Sheree started to walk toward the doors of Elder Beerman, and Courtney and I followed with Mr. Brown.

He talked and walked beside us all the way through the mall. As Kelli and Sheree went to find some jeans at Stuart’s, Courtney and I stood in the middle of the mall conversing with our now undignified angel.

He told us of movies and relatives and people he dated at Anderson University. “If I was younger I’d ask you girls out,” he told us. The conversation flowed easily from John’s side while Courtney and I asked appropriate questions at the appropriate times.

“Well, I’ve talked long enough here,” he said once, but made no move to leave. The conversation continued until he said it again. When we made no motion to resist, he walked off with a wave, telling us again about Sears.

Courtney and I joined our friends in the store and no mention was made of our fallen angel. Sheree bought her jeans, and we headed back to the car. At the entrance of Elder Beerman, there stood John Brown. We all waved tersely and walked quickly on.

In the car, one of us said, “I liked him better when I thought he was an angel.”

Maybe lonely old men can be angels too.