Follow-up

THE letter ‘An unlikely angel was my saviour’ (Peterborough) reminded me of my experience. One October, I had driven from Liverpool to Rugby in my trusty MG Midget to visit some dear relatives. Returning home on an unlit stretch of the M6, I realised a tyre had punctured. I pulled up on the hard shoulder and pondered my situation — 9pm, a howling gale, no street lights, heavy traffic and the knowledge that I could never change the tyre. There were no mobile phones then, so I decided to wait in the car until morning. Scary! Suddenly, a van pulled up in front of me and out of the gloom appeared a young man with long hair, wearing a (then fashionable) Afghan coat. Fearing for my own safety, but knowing I was stranded, I gratefully accepted his help as he changed my tyre. He would not accept payment, but suggested I buy him a coffee at the next services. Then I was on my way home. I have thought about my unlikely saviour so many times over the years. A cup of coffee was a small price to pay for being rescued.

Gwen Whittle, Liverpool.