Disclaimer: Don't own Hey Arnold. I was inspired to write this after I came across a hitch hiker yesterday. Read, Review, and Spread the word.

HA

She knew, she just knew when she got out of bed this morning, that the day was going to be horrible. Her beautiful black hair was matted and sticking out at odd ends – nothing like how perfect it usually is. She couldn't find her contacts, and when she did, it was obvious the help forgot to put them in the solution. They were so dry, that she unintentionally cried.

Her favorite sweater, as it turns out, wasn't put into the laundry last night, and so she had to wear a less than suitable purple one. Purple! Her color was red, always red. And then, to put the icing on the proverbial cake, her parents had taken the only driver that wasn't on vacation into the country with them. On the day she needed him most.

She needed to get to Princeton!

Fine, if Mommy and Daddy want to make me suffer for my education, I will. I'll just take the Aston Martin. They hardly drive it now anyway.

And so with her mind made up, the Raven haired dulcet beauty clambered into the small, yet stylish black sports car, and began her trek towards Freshman Orientation.

***

Although she didn't get far.

Deciding to take the back roads that wind past vineyards so she could enjoy the sun and try to redeem the day, her mind didn't stray around the 'What Ifs' of what could happen. And she should have.

The telltale sign, being that smoke began to arise from below the hood of her sleek 'Sex On Wheels'. The puttering to the side of the road before committing auto-like suicide was another. No service for her blackberry, GPS, com-link to any one of their homes, workers, or her parents was the final one.

She had tried to remain calm, she really did. But when the car refused to start, and nothing seemed to be going her way, it became clear to her that the day was shot.

"UGH! This cannot be happening to me. I am Rhonda Wellington Lloyd; my cars do not die on the side of the road. My technology does not tell me there is no service!" suddenly, the situation became very real for Rhonda.

"Oh no! I have no contact with the world! What am I going to do?! AHH! Am I going to have to hitch hike?!"

The scream she emitted from her vocal cords caused birds to abandon their perches.

After a short tantrum that involved kicking up the roadside dirt, all four of her tires, and the molecules in the air, Rhonda calmed down enough to assess the situation. She unlatched the hood, jumping back in shock at the billow of steam that followed her actions. She then grabbed her purse, and began walking the direction she was originally headed.

"Fine, I'll, ewwrgh, hitch hike. But I swear, if something bad happens to me, or my clothes, I will be severely pissed."

When eight cars spread out periodically didn't stop to pick her up, she assumed no one would.

And why would they? They're all probably as scared of hitch hikers as I am.

That thought made her stop suddenly, and stomp her foot in retaliation.

"How dare they assume I'm a bad person?! Can't they see I'm just a stranded young woman?! URGH! The nerve of some people!" She would have continued on with her rant and been perfectly happy to do so, when the sound of a vehicle approaching caught her ears. Spinning on her heels, she began waving madly to get the driver's attention. She was nervous when they passed her, but when they slowed and pulled off on the shoulder in front of her, she could have screamed with joy.

And she did.

Running up to the passenger door, she viewed the car with apprehension. It was an only, rusty looking VW Micro Bus, probably late sixties. It was an unappealing blue green mix, was dirty, and no doubt rusty. It certainly wasn't the kind of car she had hoped would pick her up, but it was a car so . . .

With a forced smile she had perfected with time and practice, Rhonda opened the door, ready to thank the courteous driver who helped her.

"Thank you." She choked out. Bowl cut black hair, nerdy thick red glasses, yellow shirt with a stripe, jeans, grey cons, and a crooked smile.

Oh God.

The young man who greeted her in reply, his appearance, and the next words out of his mouth, dashed away any hope she allowed to grow.

Is it too late to keep walking?

HA