The country road stretched out in both directions like it had been poured from the same lazy hand that drew the afternoon heat shimmering off the asphalt. Cornfields on one side. Trees on the other. Not a single house in sight.

And there you stood, staring at the steam curling out from under the hood like smoke from a dying campfire, with everything you owned crammed into a car that had just given up on life.

No cell service. No gas station. Not even a porch to sit on and feel sorry for yourself.

Then, from somewhere down the road, the rumble of an engine. An old one. The kind that had been around long enough to know better than to break down in the middle of nowhere.

The pickup slowed as it came up behind you, tires crunching on gravel as it pulled onto the shoulder. The engine cut off with a soft chug, and the driver's door creaked open like it hadn't been opened gentle in years.

Boots hit the pavement.