A friend of my dad passed along this story to me. Her name is Anne. Her grandfather had been a train engineer, though he had died long before she was ever born. All she knew was that it had been an accident involving the train; nobody in the family liked to talk much about it. One day, Anne's car broke down in the middle of a storm. She pushed it over to the side of the road, but really didn't know how she was going to get it fixed, or get to safety. She popped open the hood and was half underneath it when she heard footsteps approach. A nice-looking man dressed as a mechanic came up from behind and asked if he could help. He told her to get in the car, and that he would take care of everything. Anne was more than happy to oblige. He got the car working and refused any compensation. Anne noticed there were no vehicles nearby and asked if she could at least give him a ride. He shyly shook his head and walked away in the direction of the railroad tracks. Anne got to her mother's house and explained why she was late. Her mother asked where the breakdown occurred and got the oddest look on her face. She leapt up and ran for her bedroom. When she returned, she was clutching a photograph. It was the man in the mechanic's uniform. "I want to know," she asked, "was this him?" "Yes," Anne replied, "where did you get this photo?" That's when her mother explained that the man in the photo was Anne's grandfather. The picture was taken just a few weeks before his death.

Brandi, GA