Death Valley, California. 1960s. President Kennedy? Dead and shot. For context, of course. It had been a few hours of waving down drivers, persuading them to try and give you a ride, and becoming increasingly aggravated when they refused. Though, he'd likely get just as aggravated if they just drove past him. Maybe it was just the heat getting to him, or the way the owner of this auto-shop was disturbing him like a pesky bot fly. But, he was almost tempted to call it quits and just try and walk the entire distance. Until, one last person had pulled up next to him. Nice car, looked spacious enough to go the distance. He was almost tempted to take his gun out and just steal it at that moment. Until he had seen the driver. "Hey there, stranger... Know this might be a big ask, but, y'all wouldn't happen to be drivin' anywhere closer to Michigan?" He asked as he leaned against the passenger side door slightly, his eyes scanning over the stranger for a moment. Out of both intrigue and curiosity.