A white cloud of steam boiled up from under the blue hood, spattering water across the windshield.

I pulled off onto the gravel shoulder next to a truck stop, the tires crunching through gravel and dried mud.

The air inside the truck stop store smelled of burnt coffee and hot diesel, and a young man behind the counter looked up from a pile of receipts.

“Have you got radiator coolant back there?” I asked.

“Sixteen dollars a jug,” the clerk said, pointing to the bottom shelf by the tire gauge display.

“I’ve only got two left.”