My mate and I were on our way
to visit friends this holiday.
The day hot. The trip was long.
A warning light; something was wrong.
Half way to our destination,
dripping wet with perspiration,
We pulled into a tiny town.
T'was July fourth-- no one around.
We drove until the engine died.
It looked as though our goose was fried.
We had no phone and little cash;
our checkbook left at home in stash.
An old dilapidated shed,
we saw just off the road ahead.
A man emerged with stringy hair.
Tattoos and grease were everywhere.
He had a big wrench in his hand.
We were unnerved about this man.
He took a peek beneath our hood,
and said he thought he understood.
Our alternator was quite shot.
Good information, this was not.
No store was open on this day,
and had there been, we couldn’t pay.
“Wait! Let me look,” the young man said.
“There might be something in the shed.”
He found a used one that would fit.
He said a twenty would buy it.
We had enough to buy the part.
In record time, our car would start.
He wouldn’t take another dime,
`cause fixing cars was his pastime.
We learned a lesson on this day.
Judging by looks is not God’s way.
He sent an angel to our aid.
You never know how they’re portrayed.
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