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As the red Mustang convertible eased up Highway 98 toward Pensacola, Lexie sang along with the Beatles' newest release playing on the radio and let her left hand gently caress the languid ocean air. It had been a wonderful, sunny day of driving north from Palm Beach. She had enjoyed her stay with college friends, but was ready for an adventure before returning home to San Francisco for the inevitable round of pre-wedding parties and social events. She was fond of Conrad, but their marriage was more a merger of two San Francisco family fortunes than a passionate union of lovers. At 23, however, and finished with college, pressure was beginning to come from her parents to settle down and participate in the social life expected of their set. This trip to Florida and her sudden decision to buy the little red convertible and drive back across country alone was her last fling at independence before what she viewed as her "life sentence".
Suddenly Lexie was jolted from her reverie by a lurch at the front end of the car. She slowed carefully and pulled over to the side of the road. Walking around the front of the car, Lexie found that the front right tire was flat as a pancake.
"Great! This is just what I need on the first day of my trip!" she exclaimed with disgust. Looking around, she realized it was later than she had thought. The sun was just beginning its decent to the western edge of the Gulf. There were probably only another thirty minutes of light left and not a car in immediate sight.
She went to the trunk and began to remove her numerous suitcases and bags trying to locate the jack and spare. At least, she thought that there should be a jack and spare. The car was brand new, after all.
Lexie had just set down a particularly heavy bag when she spied a car approaching on her side of the road. She stepped partially onto the pavement and waved both hands, hoping for a Good Samaritan.
In the approaching car, Dillon was not in a good mood. Talk about bad days! Just about anything that could go wrong, had. And to top it all off, his application for transfer had been rejected again. There had to be a need for meteorologists in Viet Nam. He was determined not to sit this war out on some State-side Air Force Base when everyone knew your best chances for promotion came during conflicts like Viet Nam. And if there was one thing Dillon coveted, it was a promotion. After three years of service, he still was only a 1st Lieutenant. He knew as sure as the sun was shining that when he arrived home Marianne would want to talk again about why they hadn't been able to start a family yet. Just what he needed to finish one of the worst days of his life.
Ahead he noticed a slim, blonde woman motioning to him to pull over. He really didn't want to stop but there were no other cars in sight. He wouldn't be able forgive himself if he didn't help. With a sigh of resignation, he slowed and pulled in behind the stalled convertible.
"Car trouble, ma'am?" he inquired as he stepped around the front of his car.
Lexie looked up at the 6

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