His boss, an old-timer named Miller, looked up from a tractor engine. He looked at Elias’s dust-caked face and his trembling hands. "Truck die?" Miller asked. "Yep," Elias rasped.
Elias had two choices. He could sit on the bumper and wait for a passing truck—which, on this backroad, might take until Tuesday—or he could start walking. The Hard Way
"Could've hitched a ride with the mail carrier. He passed by about an hour ago." His boss, an old-timer named Miller, looked up