Get pumped by God’s Angels

We need to get pumped by God’s Angels As their Horsepower is great

A man was driving on Highway 2 through North Dakota late one evening. The road was deserted and he had not seen a soul for what seemed like hours. Suddenly his car started to cough and splutter and the engine slowly died, leaving him sitting by the road in total silence.

He popped the hood and looked to see if there was anything that he could do to get it going again. Unfortunately, he had a limited knowledge of cars, so all he could do was look at the engine and feel helpless.

As he peered by the gradually fading light of his flashlight, he cursed that he had not put in new batteries, like he had intended.

Suddenly, through the inky shadows, came a deep voice, “It’s your fuel pump.”

The man jumped up quickly, striking his head on the underside of the hood. “Who said that?” he demanded.

There were two horses standing in the field alongside and the man was amazed when the nearest horse repeated, “It’s your fuel pump. Tap it with your flashlight, and try it again. If it starts, it should at least get you to the next town, where you can get it replaced.”

Confused, the man tapped the fuel pump with his flashlight and got into his car. He turned the key, and sure enough, the engine roared into life. He went to close the hood, and turned to thank the horse; but they were gone. Thinking he must be delusional, he got in his car and drove away.

When he reached the next town, he pulled into the first service station. “My fuel pump is going out,” he told the attendant. “Can I get it replaced here?”

“Mechanic won’t be in ’til morning,” the attendant replied. “You can get a room at the Motel Six down the street. They left the light on for you. Say, how do you know it’s the fuel pump?”

“Well, I . . . never mind, I just know. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Well, now you got me curious,” said the attendant. “You must know a lot about cars.”

“No, not really,” said the man. “Well, alright . . . about five miles out of town, my engine quit . . .” and he told the whole story. “. . . and then, when I turned to thank him, he was gone! I must have imagined the whole thing—it was late, and I was awfully tired—but my car started, and here I am.”

The service station attendant rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “A horse, you say, ’bout five miles out? Was it by any chance a white horse?”

The man replied affirmatively. “Yes, it was! Am I crazy?”

“No, you ain’t crazy. In fact, you’re lucky he was there, because the other horses don’t know nothin’ ’bout cars”.

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