There was a man with a wife and two young boys who was working one night in December. Drivng a gasoline truck with 2500 gallons of gas in the tank, he kept going along the road.
Suddenly on the other side, a drunk driver turned across the road and stopped in front of him. Unable to control what was coming, he hit him.
The truck rolled over and the fuel tank burst open. When he looked around, he found that he was trapped in a wave of gasoline, trying to find a way out but failing.
At that moment, he began to give up fighting to live and accepted that he was going to die. Peace washed over him as he began to think of his wife and two young boys. He wondered how they were going to take care of themselves when he was gone and a single tear rolled down his cheeks. Was this really the end?
Feeling powerless to what was happening to him, he had lost his breath. His body began to take a breath of flames, feeling the scorching heat. He knew he was going to die any second.
He bowed down his head and said in his heart and mind, "God, please don't let me die."
As soon as he said this, the flames began to part. A sudden gust of fresh air surrounded him and he could finally breath.
He picked himself up from the flames, not feeling hurt or harmed in any ways. The sound of ambulance came and in a minute, the paramedics came to his aid, helping him onto the back of the ambulance truck. He told them he felt fine, although the nippy weather began to have an effect on him but they hauled him away anyways.
After being released from the hospital that night, he went home to his wife and two young boys and embraced them. As he turned on the television, he saw the news of his truck. A bystander reported that the flames were eighty to one hundred feet high, soaring into the night sky. Yet, despite of this, there was a path through the gasoline that did not burn until the man was cleared of the wreckage. He turned off the television and sat there knowing that God was there.
