Evidently moved to pity, Jessica insisted on driving me back to the break-down site, where a mountainous flatbed towtruck idled in a dim halo of rain shards. Since the presumed occupant showed no interest in the great outdoors, I climbed up uninvited to join him in his cozy dome-lit cabin, slamming the door against the damp enemy. Toasty in there! Like Jessica's house, only without the tea. I couldn't blame him for hesitating to emerge. We chatted for five or ten and I'd halfway sold him the car as a fixer-upper "A to B car" for his daughter when, struck with some unforeseen sense of duty, he got the idea to try jumping it. Darned if he didn't get it going first try!
Will no one rid me of this beast?