"YES, you'll get through, but go carefully" was the advice the police gave me as I drove down the dark, waterlogged lane.

I had already been forced to divert along the A66 because of a closed road at Scotch Corner.

So, in a long queue of people doing exactly the same, I ventured through waterlogged Gilling West in my little Citroen AX, where the fire service was busy pumping water away from homes.

The flashing of hazard lights and the sound of waterlogged engines being optimistically turned over should have started the alarm bells ringing, but the slow snake of traffic ahead spurred me on.

I drove into the centre of the deeply flooded road and - nothing.

Everything stopped, the engine went quiet, the car behind me stopped and its lights went out.

I tried the ignition and the engine spluttered - the water in its lungs obviously snuffing out any chance of combustion.

So what to do. Put the hazards on and, well, er wait. For what I don't know, but the water was lapping up the door and it looked rather cold.

Suddenly, I jumped at a knock on the passenger side window. A woman standing on the high verge asked if I was all right.

I told her I didn't really know what to do, just as a large vehicle passed me. I felt the water wash up under the car as I started to float.

The woman told me she had two children in her car, and that they had been back to the village to tell the police the road was no longer passable, so I should probably wait for the police to arrive.

Whoosh, some inconsiderate person in a 4X4 dashed through, sending me bobbing once more.

I instinctively put my feet on the pedals to find they were in quickly deepening water, and the seat was starting to feel decidedly damp. It was time to leave the car.

I opened the door and a large van started driving towards me. "Typical male driver," I thought. "Can't he see me trying to get out."

The van driver actually turned out to be a latter day knight in shining armour. Off-duty, in full camouflage gear, Graeme had already rescued three other damsels in distress as he tried to get home.

He plucked me from the cold, filthy water and left me drying out in the van, while he plunged himself into the water and organised a lift home for me with another woman, also trying to get to Richmond.

We eventually made it back through Catterick - the only remaining route open.

As we chatted while driving slowly along - roads turned into river beds by the rain - I thought how a journey I take so regularly could turn so quickly into such a challenge.

It made me think how the best (and sometimes worst) in people seems to come out when confronted with disaster.

So thank you to the two women who went out of their way to help, and the gallant Graeme.

For those drivers in company cars and 4X4s, too busy to slow down for anyone, there's more flooding due, I hear