A HIGHWAY PATROL OFFICER HELPED FIX OUR TIRE—AND THEN RECOGNIZED MY HUSBAND FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE We were halfway through a long, miserable drive to Tucson—hot, cranky, and barely speaking after a petty argument about road trip playlists—when we felt the thump. Flat tire. Of course. We pulled over to the shoulder, dust swirling as cars roared by, and my husband got out to inspect the damage. He looked flustered. Honestly, so did I. A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled up behind us. The officer