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"We could maybe camp back there if we need to," Sarah noted, nodding her head in the direction of a small clump of brambles up the hill behind the gas station. I followed her gaze for a moment and then looked down at my feet. My shoes were still caked with mud following the week's suffer fest of hiking through continual rain and snow in Oregon's backcountry. I doubted they would ever look clean again. "Maybe we should have just toughed it out," I answered weakly. "And died out there? Hypothermia is not on my to do list," Sarah quipped back. I went back to scanning the passing traffic along the highway, willing any of the cars to pull over at the service station we impatiently waited by. Nearly two hours had passed since we had been dropped off there and it was beginning to seem like we were never going be able to leave. In all of that time only two cars had actually pulled over to get gas and neither of them had the courtesy to even acknowledge Sarah and I actually existed. "I know it may not look it, but I showered this morning — with shampoo!" I mused, more so to myself than anyone. Sarah was ignoring me. I looked over at her. Her eyes were fixed upon something on the highway. A green minivan was pulling off at our exit! Another car was actually going to drive by us! Instinctively, Sarah took my hand in hers and with her free hand stuck her thumb out in the universal sign of, 'we need a ride.' The green minivan slowed to a halt in front of us and the driverside window rolled down to reveal a warm face wizened with old age. "I'm not going far, but you're welcome to come along with me," the old woman crooned. Anywhere was better than here and Sarah and I wasted no time dropping our heavy rucksacks in the way back and climbing in. As the designated conversationalist of our party, I took the front seat while Sarah took the back. That was our agreement, Sarah would stop the car and I would do the chatting. "Jack. Nice to meet you," I introduced myself, reaching out to shake the woman's hand, "and that's Sarah." "Very nice to meet you Jack and Sarah, my name is Opal," she answered warmly, though there was a hint of something else in her voice. "I've just come from Eugene and, well, it's not been so good a day for me and when I saw you both there I thought, if I could do just one good thing then today would be alright." The pain was evident in her words as she finished speaking. "Well we sure are thankful you stopped for us, we were beginning to think nobody would! We've had a rough go ourselves, nearly froze to death in the mountains. So we're heading south to keep hiking, but at a lower elevation. Your day can't have been worse than nearly dying!" I said, although with a closer look I realized just how old Opal actually was and how she probably had more brushes with death than Sarah or I. "I'm 97 years old," she began, "and you would think that at my age your days of heartache would be behind you. Every Sunday I go to the dance hall in Eugene to see my boyfriend of 12 years and today he stands me up! Called to tell me he'd found somebody else! And after I'd already got all dolled up and driven over.. Bet she's younger.. The old bastard." Opal's cheeks were flushed with emotion. For a 97 year old she hadn't lost her fire. I imagined whoever this man was clearly made the wrong choice in dumping her. I had only just met her, but she was the sort of person you knew right away was a good one. "I tell you what Opal, you tell this guy that you've found somebody too, who's much younger, much better looking and that you don't need him anyhow." And I leaned across the car and kissed her hard on the cheek. We nearly crashed.