Going on a road trip

After several cars passed her by - or even worse honked at her! - eventually a small coupe from the 2000s pulled over.

"You look like you're down for an adventure," the driver rolled down his window, "get in!"

Rachel didn't know what the driver meant by an "adventure", but she got in anyway.

"Hey," she began, strategically positioning the seatbelt to cover her crotch, "can you take me home?"

"Maybe," the driver continued suspiciously, "where do you live?"

"Crestwood Hills," Rachel told him.

"Nah, that's out of the way," the driver shrugged with a shit-eating grin, "I'm going to the other side of town, and actually going to Yellowstone."

Yellowstone! That was halfway across the country!

"Okay, then," Rachel sighed, "you can let me out here, then."

But the driver didn't budge, say anything, or make any motion to pull over. Rachel looked at her door and saw the ends of cables that had been cut off where a handle would be.

Rachel gulped, trying to roll down her window, but saw no switch for that either.

"Let me out!" she screamed from the top of her lungs and banged the passenger window with her hands, "Let me out! I don't want to go to Yellowstone!"

But the driver kept on driving, getting off the city block and merging onto the highway.