(From the previous post: Finally, we came on the main road. Here at least we could see some passerby and ask for help. A vehicle came along. We flagged it down by frantically moving our arms. X proceeded to talk to the driver. To me he looked like the Misfit, a serial killer from Flannery O’Connor’s story, "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." )
The Misfit explained that we had strayed too far, and offered to drive us back in his clunker. I suspected that he was laying a trap for us, so hesitated a bit, but before I could think of any strategy to escape, all three of my friends occupied the back seat, leaving only the front seat for me.