A taxi ride from hell - with God on board

  

This is a true story. I had stopped driving my own car when this occurred several years ago, so I often used taxis. This story could be called Prayer really does work.

 

‘Your taxi’s here,’ my sister called.

I was leaving from their place to have dinner with friends at Rochedale.

I hurried out to the front and sure enough, headlights shone through the early winter darkness.

I waved to Arlene and hastily climbed into the back seat. I was running a bit late but the evening promised to be fun.

‘Rochedale, please,’ I said to the driver and told him the address. He lurched the car out of the driveway and set off down the street.

‘We have to go via the airport,’ he announced in a slightly slurred voice.

‘No, we don’t. Just go down Old Cleveland Road and turn off to Rochedale,’ I said.

Surely a taxi driver knew where Rochedale was?

 

The Accident

He muttered something inaudible about the airport and set off down Old Cleveland Road, speeding.

I felt uncomfortable as we hurtled along.

Traffic lights shone green beams into the dark.

The lights changed to yellow.

Then red.

The driver seemed unaware of the lights and our taxi crashed loudly into the car in front. My stomach was in knots.

There was a noisy, angry dispute between the taxi driver and the other driver, while car horns beeped and people screamed at us at that busy intersection.

Somehow the driver extricated himself from the argument and off we went again.

 

The wrong turn

He turned down a dark, deserted lane, in the opposite direction from where we needed to turn.

Butterflies beat frantic wings against the walls of my stomach.

‘NO, not this way!’ I shouted at him. He was obviously drunk or on drugs.

‘Turn around,’ I yelled angrily. (I am not normally a yeller.)

 

I was not alone

Suddenly I remembered I was not alone. I am a Christian; God was with me.

I began to pray.

Those of you who know me, probably know I’m not too good with directions. So … I didn’t know the way to my friends’ home even in broad daylight and even though I’d been there before. I was theoretically at the mercy of the taxi driver.

I prayed loudly. I sat bolt upright in the back seat, shouting prayers to God, rarely knowing what I was praying. And as I prayed, I found myself yelling, ‘Turn right here’, ‘Turn left next’ and so on. I had no idea where the directions came from. The words seemed to bypass my brain.

 

The power of prayer

After about twenty minutes, we arrived at my friends’ place in Rochedale. I grabbed the door handle, shoved a twenty dollar note in the driver’s hand, and ran into the house.

I was shaking but I was safe.

 

No doubt, if the taxi driver had any rational thoughts, he decided he had a crazy woman on board. But I could never be tempted to doubt the power of prayer or consider it just a ‘feel good’ response to a crisis.

 

 Needless to say, I reported it and have never taken a taxi alone at night again.