You decide to settle in and wait. People around here are nice, and you're confident you'll get some help if someone comes along.

Sure enough, 20 minutes after you've settled in with a game on your cell phone, the sound of the cheerful pings and bloops of the game are interrupted by the crunch of tires on gravel. You look into your rear view mirror and see a dark pickup truck coming along the road.

Wait a second...Just from the silhouette alone, that looks like Wes.

He parks his truck behind you. When he gets out, you see that it's definitely Wes. He swings his truck door closed and rolls his shoulders as he heads toward you along the road toward your car, his feet crunching on the gravel. When he reaches the driver's side door, he taps on your window and raises his eyebrows.

"Looks like you could use some help," he says.

"Wes? What are you doing here?" You turn the key just enough in the ignition that you can roll down the window. The balmy June air kisses your face, laden with the scent of dust from the gravel road and the verdant greenery that surrounds you.

He says, "I got nervous about you heading out here all on your own. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you after I gave you directions. Good thing I came. You're definitely flat."

Wes heads around the front of the car. You see him shift his weight and feel the car nudged slightly. He raises his voice. "Pop the trunk, Kendall. You got a spare?"

Now if this isn't the definition of Midwestern—or is it Southern?—charm, you don't know what is. He came all this way just to check up on you, after you grilled him with a last-minute interview? You pop the trunk. [[Go to Chapter 32.]]

Now if this isn't weird as hell, you don't know what is. He came all this way just to check up on you, after you met briefly for a newspaper article? You think you'll call for Roadside Assistance, after all. [[Go to Chapter 31.]]