When Joe wrote in several years ago, he had a problem. He had reconnected with Bev, an old friend, at their grade school reunion. He thought she was the love of his life, and he was so happy to have found her. "Being in my early fifties, it wasn't easy meeting the right one," he says.

And then, things started to fall apart about a year into the relationship. "There were monthly 'I don't trust you' conversations which hurt me because I was faithful to her," he says. They went to couples counseling, but it didn't seem to help. She was too "neurotic" for help. She broke up with Joe a day before Christmas over a picture of a woman she found on his computer, not realizing she was in the picture, too.

I told Joe to run from Bev as fast as he could, even if she wanted him back. Now here's Joe with an update: "I'm glad I took your advice. I've now been blessed to meet the real love of my life. She's five foot two with eyes of blue. Lynne has no drama and trusts me completely as I do her. I'm going to ask her to marry me soon. So, once in a while happy endings do happen!

"As for Bev, I try not to think about her anymore. Now that I've found a much better, normal woman, who loves me and isn't neurotic, I realize I'm the luckiest man."

We recently had a reader sing the praises of truckers. Here's Carly to second that!

CARLY: Twice a year, I would head solo on I-90/94 from Idaho or Washington to my home state of Minnesota, where most of my family resides. One of my things was to wave to every truck I passed. I was like a game to see which ones waved back. One year, my trusty, rusty old Ford Tempo was having problems, and I was at a rest stop trying to get it started. A trucker came over and helped me out. He said that he always stopped at a truck stop in such-and-such town and he would follow me at least to that stop just in case I had problems. I stopped with him, and he bought me lunch. I've never seen him again, but I still look for his truck as I wave to the truckers on the freeway.

Another time, the trusty, rusty Tempo finally had its last trip. It died on an exit ramp seven hours away from where I was living. A trucker pulled over behind me and asked if I needed help. He said he had seen me on and off, as I would pass him and wave. He gave me jumper cables, and we tried to get my car running but with no success. Then, one young gentleman stopped to help. He happened to live right down the road. He let me stay at his house for the evening, and I was able to tow my car and park it in his alley. I was picked up the next day and had my car towed away a month later.

Have you met the love of your life when you were in an accident? Send your tale, along with your questions and problems to [email protected]. And check out my e-books, "Dear Cheryl: Advice from Tales from the Front" and "I'll Call You. Not."

Photo credit: at Pixabay