This is pure fiction. No one or no thing in this tale are real, the 'non-' prefix was left out for a reason.
*****
I saw the vehicle in the distance, sidelined on the road's shoulder ahead. As I approached, it looked like and I told myself that it was one of the Sprinter utility vans, vehicles I've come to admire if only because a friend of mine has one. Most vehicles, two-wheeled or more, don't normally draw my attention but this model of utility van does due to buddy Tom's modified home-on-wheels. Nothing very fancy or sporty about them though most every time I see one I recall getting a tour of the interior of Tom's very practical use of space.
He winters in Texas, has a small home in New England and for much of the year, carries his motorcycle inside as he moves from locale to locale. When the bike isn't rolled up the rear ramp and secured behind the rear doors, his fold down bed, kitchen, work desk, etc. make up a very mobile and adaptable living space. Seeing the creative and thorough job he's done making the vehicle comfortable, efficient and adaptable to his special, freedom-loving lifestyle is enough to give a guy ideas, ideas that play in my head most every time that I get focused on one of the tall boxy vans.
Out for four or five weeks after my official semi-retirement, I was a week into my trip, so very much looking forward to my first opportunity in years to be out and away from home for more than a week or two. Once almost too good at extended road trips, I was certain that with a couple of weeks and a thousand miles or so under my belt, the old skill set would return.
Nodding to myself as I quickly approached the sidelined van ahead, I appreciated the considerate distance that the driver had pulled over beyond the semi defined edge of the roadway; the tall van's right wheels far enough off the edge to give it a definite tilt.
Almost past it, I saw them come from around the back corner. Legs, very long legs connected to the ground by tall open sandals, just a quick instant before I managed to focus on her very brief shorts. The fast brain response was a surprise since the expected stereotypical view of a jean'd service technician wasn't what I'd just seen.
The tall, long haired brunette looked directly at me and her hand came up, starting as a cautious wave but just as I passed evolved into a "stop please" gesture. I may have only been wanting to see something of the sort but her hand gesture combined with a hopeful though questioning smile as I passed was enough to give me pause.
Pause because of an incident that potentially could have led to something disastrous a long ago while I was on a trip in Texas. There were two young very friendly, flirty women. I had seen them with two big burly guys, the guys staying behind in the motor home as the rest of the tourists and I walked through the lot and into the Houston tourist attraction. I've always believed that it was an avoidance well made.
I'm going to report here that it was the brunette's look of desperation that I saw as a pleading request rather than the view of her outfit that she presented as I slowed and eased onto the shoulder 100 yards or so beyond the stopped truck. With no reverse and no real decent break in the oncoming traffic, rather than make a U turn and go back, I wondered if the gap between my bike and her truck may just be enough distance and walking time interval for me to rethink my hope of being a good Samaritan, continuing on without a formal stop. I was quite sure I'd seen the outline or shadow of another woman sitting in the truck just as I passed by. Dozens of thoughts in that quick second and then my decision to give in and walk back to the stalled vehicle.
I always wear a helmet, gloves and a good all-weather jacket, rain or shine. They came off quickly and as I started walking back, a second young woman came from around the back of the truck, this one a blond. She joined the brunette and the two of them were walking toward me; my sense of cautious concern ramped up more than a couple of notches as we together closed the gap. Before we met, I was able to confirm that there was indeed a third silhouette in the front seat and it looked like she may have been holding a phone up to her ear.
"Hi, thanks for stopping. We could really use some help."
The brunette spoke, both she and her blond friend greeted me with huge, warm smiles.
"I'm Sandy, this is Tina and Rosie's inside on the phone trying to locate a tow truck. The front tire went flat pretty fast but I was able to get it slowed down and off the road OK."
They seemed friendly enough and it looked as though the right front tire was indeed very flat. I wasn't quite ready to give up my name or anything else important yet though.
"Do you have a spare, do you know if there's air in it?"
I was a bit nervous, wondering how many more people were part of their party and doing my very best to be as aware of all my surroundings as possible, becoming sorry that I had stopped in the first place. I've only stopped a couple of times in my life to help someone else with tire trouble and both times, access to the rusty and/or soft spare made the job almost impossible and I was dreading what I might find this time.
"We don't, at least we can't find it if there is one." Both Sandy and Tina smiled broadly, doing their very best to disarm my concerns. When I started moving towards the back door of the Sprinter, Sandy made a move to get in front, not exactly subtly steering me away from the rear of the white vehicle and instead to the passenger side door where Rose was just emerging.
Tina made the few steps back to me from the open window she'd been listening through as Rose was on the phone.
"We know the spare is missing. It looks like Rose got through and has a tow truck coming but it sounds like he's over an hour away on another job and might not make it for a couple of hours."
Standing there, close to the 3 women with me now a bit more relaxed, I took a moment to focus on the women collectively. Sandy, the tallish brunette that initially flagged me over was wearing a white T-shirt that just may have spent too much time in the drier. It had a very small logo that wasn't quite discernible to me, partially due to it attempting to hide on the top slope of her rather large, obviously bra-less breast.
Staring for the details would have been too easy so I made every attempt not to. The logo just couldn't have been that important; everything that
was
important was blatantly obvious.
Tina, the only slightly shorter blond was wearing a very short tan skirt, not as brief as Sandy's shorts but a 6-inch ruler would have more than measured the difference and had a very loose-fitting, light fabric sweatery kind of top. Much of her from the hips up was hidden at least to the casual eye. Prominent nipples hinted at what may have been hidden beneath otherwise.
Rose walked right up to me and held out her hand which I took and gripped as firmly as she'd gripped mine.
"I'm Rose, you've met Sandy and Tina and you are?"
"Rick"
"Nice to meet you Rick, we really appreciate your stopping; not everybody would have."
I thought to myself that Sandy could have stopped a battalion's worth of people.
Rose looked me directly in the eye as she spoke, confident and sounding very strong and self-assured. She was dressed in a very modest sun dress, knee length and what looked like slip-on deck shoes. With less makeup on and a dress that was much less provocative than the attire that her two friends were wearing, a first impression would more than hint at the fact that she was rather plain.
I felt instantly attracted to her.
"We could really use a favor and I wonder if you'd be willing to help us?"
Here it comes I thought...
"Breakfast was missed this morning, the van is empty and we're starved. Would you be kind enough to go into town and bring something back to us while we wait?"
Before I could even begin to worry about the money side of things Rose reached forward with a $100 bill.
"This should do it," as Rose looked quickly away to her friends for their approval, I imagined them making choices from some non-existent menu.