Rachel Kusher, writing for The New York Times Magazine:
But then there was no function: The car cut out. Cleanly. No sputter, just click. It was off, and slowing. By a stroke of luck, there was an exit just up ahead. I willed the car enough momentum to roll to the exit. It did. It rolled right into a truck stop.
I lifted the hood and stood there. It was getting dark. Several truckers came over to help. Theories were suggested, but no one seemed to know what the trouble was. A petite and wiry man walked up, grim-faced, carrying one of those Igloo coolers for six beers that was filled with a jumble of greasy tools. The others nodded in his direction and someone said, “There’s your man.”
Just a nice, neat, clean, well-written personal essay. That I loved. And you will too.