Maeburl Tincher
She was 18 and needed an escape. I was 16 and needed a new perspective on life.
So, as we waited on the second bus load, we planned our journey. Friday would be the day: instead of going to school, we’d go north toward West Virginia.
She had made friends with a couple who owned a restaurant and I had relatives working on the turnpike. We would make our way toward a new future with opportunities for advancement.
Friday morning – just as planned – we set out fast-walking, south on Highway 129.
Passing Jutts Creek, a flood of emotions filtered through my soul. Among others, I thought about my Daddy. I had left a note for him in the pocket of his special election-day coat. I knew he would find it and somehow I knew I would be okay.
Over the next three days, one good Samaritan after the other transported us along our intended route.
We journeyed from Topton to Bryson City; on to Asheville; Gastonia; and finally Rocky Mount, where we stayed with friends over the weekend.
On Monday morning, the plan took a little detour and, by Tuesday morning I was sitting in a café in the heart of New York City. Taxi cabs, cars, buses, trucks and trolleys were aggressively zipping and whipping by one another. My head started to spin, my stomach got weak and I killed over.
They had taken me out back to get fresh air. When I came to, they were still working on me. I was completely surrounded by the overwhelming power of the towering skyscrapers and I begin to faint again!
Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore!
Shortly thereafter, the kind trucker returned to pick us up and we headed out across the Brooklyn Bridge. I must say, the skyline looked better from the cab of that truck than the back door of that street-corner café.
That evening, the generous man bought us dinner and paid for a separate room for us to stay in. He had said more than once that I reminded him of his little girl. The years have revealed that during this time in life, my daddy was back home praying that somehow his little girl would be kept safe.
We eventually made our way down Route No. 1 to Ashland, Va. He gave us $20 and said I could live and work at this well-established and respected truck stop. That’s exactly what I did for two years until I met my future husband.
I am thankful for many things and I am no stranger to angels, but as often as I think of the grace of God in my life, I think of two things: my daddy’s prayers and the man that God used to answer them.
That’s when I begin to praise God for his faithfulness and pray for His blessings on the children and grandchildren of the good Samaritan trucker who kept this runaway safe.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jack Branch community.