Presbyterian Record, February 1st, 2000
About this time last winter, Ralph Milton was driving over the Coquihalla Pass when he saw a woman standing out in the cold beside her car, freezing. He pulled over to see if she needed help. Her car had broken down, she said. She was waiting for the tow truck to come. Ralph looked at her skimpy town jacket, her short skirt, her legs protected by nothing more than nylon hose. A bitter wind sliced through the high mountains. She was wringing her hands and rubbing her ears to keep them warm. "You'd better get into my van while you wait," he suggested. "I can at least make you some coffee." S...
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