Tate
ten.
“Fuck!” I yell and kick the flat tire. I had just gotten out of Wyoming and into Utah when I hit a pothole. It’s nearing eleven o’clock, and roads are empty. What do I do? I passed the last town about an hour ago, and there’s not likely to be any cars until morning. I feel like I’m in a very bad horror film and some guy with a chainsaw is going to tear me limb from limb. I get back into the car and lock the doors. I check my phone, no service. I’m probably going to die tonight, I decide. I grab my blanket from the backseat and wrap it around myself. Nothing left to do but try to make it through the night. I let myself fall asleep.
~~~
I’m awoken by a knock. I jump awake, forgetting where I am. My neck is sore from sleeping upright. I look out the window to find a sheriff. I roll the window down.
“Are you okay, miss?” He asks. I nod. “Looks like you have a problem.” He says and gestures to the flat tire.
“Yeah, I hit a pothole.” I reply. “Do you know how far the closest town is?” I ask.
“There’s a gas station about sixty miles away.”
“Sixty miles?” I repeat. “That’s a long walk…”
“C’mon, I’ll give you ride.”
~~~
I’m awoken by a knock. I jump awake, forgetting where I am. My neck is sore from sleeping upright. I look out the window to find a sheriff. I roll the window down.
“Are you okay, miss?” He asks. I nod. “Looks like you have a problem.” He says and gestures to the flat tire.
“Yeah, I hit a pothole.” I reply. “Do you know how far the closest town is?” I ask.
“There’s a gas station about sixty miles away.”
“Sixty miles?” I repeat. “That’s a long walk…”
“C’mon, I’ll give you ride.”