The Flat Tire

It is a cool summer evening as John drives home late on a Friday evening. He has his windows down and the sunroof open, not a care in the world. His favorite song is even playing on the radio, which is a rare occurrence. As he drives down a relatively empty stretch of road, he sees hazard lights blinking in the distance.

As he gets closer to the car, he is able make out the brake lights, and recognizes them immediately. "Huh," John thinks to himself, "looks like a 92-93 Accord."

As he approaches the disabled vehicle, he can't help but notice the girl leaning against the car, looking despondent. She appears to be about his own age of 24, with curly brown hair that fell past her shoulders. She looks to be about 5'5 with long, shapely legs. She couldn't have weighed more than 120 lbs.

John pulls up behind her car, and steps out. It was obvious she was scared. What girl wouldn't be when stranded on a barren stretch of road at night?

Approaching the girl slowly, John asks: flat tire?

She just nods, still looking nervous. With his headlights shining, he can clearly make out her blue eyes, hourglass figure, and breasts that he assumed to be a 34b, although it was hard to tell in her loose fitting t-shirt.

"My name is John. Pop the trunk, I'll help you out." He says, smiling at her.

Flashing a weak smile, the girl responds "I'm Doe."

Her nerves begin to subside as John attempts to make conversation. She feels comforted by his presence, although she is unsure why. "He's actually kind of cute" she thinks to herself.

She guessed he was about 5'10. He had brown hair and hazel eyes. He wasn't overweight, but he wasn't super skinny. "He could stand to lose a few pounds, but it certainly doesn't detract from his looks" Doe continues within her own mind as he begins to jack up the car.

"Is this a '92 or '93?" John asks, bringing her back from her silent reverie

"It's a '93. My grandmother bought it brand new, but never drove it much. I always liked it for some reason, so I got it when she died. It only has 78,000 miles on it, though." replies Doe.

"I had a '93 myself. I never should have sold it." He says with a sigh as he places the spare on the car.

"They're great cars," he continues. "Made the mistake of selling mine to get a truck, which spent at least six months of the year and a half I owned it in the shop."

"Well, you've got a nice Integra now." Doe responds, much to John's surprise. She smiles. "I'm very much a Honda fan."

John places the flat tire into her trunk, replaces the jack, and the suitcase he removed to get to the spare tire.

"How much do I owe you?" Doe asks, wishing she could spend more time with him.

"No charge. But, ummm, have you had dinner yet?" John inquires sheepishly.

"Actually, no. I was trying to make it into town and get settled before I ate. You see how well THAT worked out." She replies.

"Well, ummmm, would you like me to follow you into town to make sure nothing else happens and we can grab a bite to eat?" He pauses briefly. "Not to sound like a creep or anything." He hangs his head in shame of saying something he feels came out sounding stupid.