“Damnit, damnit!” I whined aloud to myself seeing the steam pouring out from under the hood of my rental car. I looked down at the temperature gauge and saw that it was off the charts. “That’s what I get for renting a Ford Taurus… jeezus! These new cars just can’t handle highway speeds…” I was mumbling to myself as I raised the hood of the new white Taurus, forgetting that I’d had the accelerator all the way to the floor. The heat of a July sun beat down on my bare shoulders as I stood there, semi bent over, hands on the driver side fender. I kicked the tire brutally, then wished I hadn’t. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn these sandals.” I reached through the window to grab my cell phone, exposing more of my toned rear end to the elements as the denim mini I wore hiked up my thighs. As I struggled to grasp the phone, my feet left the asphalt and I could feel the heat of the Montana sun warming my ass through my pink silk panties. “Hey there… having some car trouble?” came a mocking voice from behind me. Embarrassed, and turning as pink as the panties I wore, I eased my feet back onto the ground and turned to face the man leaning against the rear quarter of the Taurus. He was over six feet tall, wearing a pair of button fly levis, a white tee shirt and a black cowboy hat… a Stetson I think they call it. “Car trouble? Is that what you call this? Here I am, in 90 degree heat, with a BRAND new car, stranded along side I-90. What do YOU think?!?” I snapped. “Well then,” he laughed, “I guess you have it all figured out. Guess I’ll just be on my way.” He turned to leave then, and I could feel the anger rising inside me.