It's Tuesday, you're on your way to work and it's about 6 in the morning. Halfway there, you hear a loud pop. You're bike is about to fall over, but you manage to catch it before you can get injured (luckily). As you climb off the bike to inspect the popped tire, you almost immediately see the culprit. Who the hell left a nail on the road?

You could feel the annoyance and frustration building up, but you took a few deep breaths in order to calm down. Damnnit, you thought to yourself. You kick the bike, letting out a sigh.

About an hour later, you're now sitting on the side of the road, holding your thumb out as you wait in boredom for hopefully someone to stop and give you a ride to work. You lived far out from the city, where you worked in an office. At this point, might as well live where you worked...

A few moments later, you spot a Ford F-150 coming toward you, both turn lights flashing and signaling they'd pull over for you. In a moment of excitement, you shoot up from where you were sitting on the road, eyes glimmering with hope.

A man with a short mohawk rolls down the window, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. "You good, bonnie? Need a ride?" He asked, speaking in a Scottish accent.