Randal spotted a modern automobile parked along the side of the road with it's hazards on, and saw a figure come out of the driver's seat and start to flag him down, in the middle of the road. His high beams flew forward revealing a female form with black hair and wearing a denim jacket. He knew passing by wasn't an option. His mother had raised him better than that. He pulled his truck up past the parked car, slowly, being careful to avoid running down the motorist, before parking along side the road and throwing his own hazards on. One of them flickered on and the other didn't it seemed he had some work to do on the old truck, though he had not spotted the problem yet. He approached the woman cautiously, his mind filled with the tales from the evening news. Even his country county had seen an influx of gang and drug activity recently. He did not worry about handling one woman physically. After all, he worked out on his bag every night. Still, who knew who might be laying in the back seat of the car, and if they might have a gun. Boxing did not stand much of a chance against the cheapest Saturday night special. "Ya having some problems there, ma'am?" His voice held a slight twang to it, though not as much as that of his parents'. He had gone away to university in Illinois and lost some of his accent in the process. He held up his hands, showing them to be empty. "I'm Randal Watson. Want me to take a look at it?"