The one bright side to this situation was Ford had gotten to use the facilities in the portal potty this time before it transported him, so at least he wasn't having to hold it as he dealt with being stranded out in the desert somewhere. He hadn't even realized they contained functioning restrooms. Actually, come to think of it there was a lot he didn't know about the portal potties; after his first experience with being transported by one, he had decided to leave them alone. Clearly that was an oversight on his part that needed to be rectified. If nothing else, he needed a through enough knowledge of them that he wouldn't accidentally attempt to use one of them again thinking it to be a normal outhouse.

Another few strokes of luck – and Ford was willing to cling to all the luck he could get at the moment – he had been deposited next to a paved and reasonably well-maintained road, and because he had been at that carnival with Fiddleford prior to his ill-fated bathroom break, Ford had his wallet on him. The road was rather small with only one lane in either direction, but he couldn't imagine it taking more than a few hours before a car willing to pick up a hitchhiker passed by, and this time Ford would only need a ride as far as the nearest bus station.

Looking westward down the road, Ford didn't see much of anything but more desert. To the east, he could see a city skyline in the distance, which normally would mean that was the direction he should start heading in. However, also eastward there was a car in the distance heading toward Ford, so Ford turned to start heading west as well. In his admittedly limited and anecdotal experience, cars were more willing to pick up a hitchhiker if that hitchhiker had been walking in the same direction they were heading. They also tended to be more receptive if Ford had a story for why he was hitchhiking that wasn't "I ran afoul of a space-warping structure masquerading as an outhouse." The two best received stories were "backpacking cross-country and had my gear stolen" and "a bachelor party prank gone horribly wrong." It was hard to tell at the present distance, but he thought the car heading his way was bright red which had him leaning toward the bachelor party story, but he would wait until he saw the person or people in the car before he came to a final decision.

Ford continued glancing over his shoulder as the car came closer. He was starting to get the feeling he recognized the car. But that was, well, not impossible technically, but improbable in the extreme. Really, all he could tell at this point is it was a red sedan with a white top. That could describe a lot of cars, and it was only his mind playing tricks on him, filling in the details he couldn't see with ones that were familiar to him. Even when it became clear that the car really was the make and model he had thought, there were still a lot of cars around the world that looked like that. It was a coincidence.

It had to be a coincidence, he told himself, and kept right on telling himself until the car pulled to a stop alongside the road – without Ford ever having stuck his thumb out, mind – giving him a clear view of the license plate reading "STNLYMBL." He watched in mingled shock and a myriad of other emotions he couldn't even begin to name as his estranged twin brother got out of the car.

"Stanford?" his brother asked, clearly in a state of equal shock.

"Hello, Stanley," Ford said. He licked his lips nervously. He really, really wished he had been wrong about the car. But he hadn't been, and needs must. "Do you think you could give me a ride?"

Stan stared at him blankly for another long moment before swearing very empathically at the air. "Dammit Rico, when you said you were giving me the good stuff, I didn't think you meant something that was going to give me delayed hallucinatory reaction. And not even a fun hallucination."

"Are you driving while intoxicated right now?" Ford asked incredulously. He knew Stan had become a thief and a charlatan over the past 10 years, but that took irresponsibility to a whole different level.

"Of course not," Stan said. "I would never risk the Stanleymobile like that."

"So good of you to be worried about the safety of those around you," Ford said sarcastically.

"Hey, they can look out for themselves same as I look out for myself," Stan snapped back reflexively. He paused then, taking a moment to look Ford over again. "You really are here right now, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Ford said. In more ways than one.

"Okay, so follow-up question: what the hell are you doing in Arizona out in the middle of the desert?"

Ah, so that's where he was. Well it could have been better, though probably not too much better with the desert landscape as a given, but it also could have been much, much worse. "Would you believe a bachelor party prank gone horribly wrong?" Ford asked.

"Not from you, no," Stan said.

"What about a cross-country backpacking trip?" Stan continued to stare at him and said nothing. "I ran afoul of a space-warping structure masquerading as an outhouse, and it transported me here?" Ford tried.

"Okay, that's the most made-up sounding thing yet, but yeah, I'll believe it," Stan said.

Ford blinked in surprise. "You will?"

"Sure, why not? That's your job now, right? You're getting paid all kinds of fancy college money to study supernatural stuff?" said Stan.

"Yes, but how did you know that?" Ford had never told him, obviously. Had someone else? Was Stan still in contact with Ma maybe?

"I have my ways," Stan said dismissively. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "So. You need a ride back to Oregon?"

"Just to the nearest bus station is fine. I can find my own way home from there," Ford told him.

Stan gave him a long assessing look, like he was trying to figure out what he was going to demand of Ford in exchange for the lift. Ford swore if Stan said one word about treasure hunting, he was going to punch him. "Nah, that's dumb. I'll just give you a ride all the way back to your place. It'll be faster, more direct, cheaper, and you won't have to deal with being in a bus full of strangers."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Ford protested.

"Yeah, I got that, but I'm telling you I'll do it. It'll only be what, three days? Not even, and I ain't got anything better going on," Stan said.

"Yes, but…" But Ford wasn't entirely certain he wouldn't rather take the bus. It would be a hassle and undoubtedly involve a number of changeovers, but strangers he could ignore at least. How was he supposed to handle being in a small enclosed space with Stan for the next three days?

Stan glared at him. "Get in the damn car, Ford."

"Fine, have it your way." Ford wrenched open the passenger seat and climbed in, slamming the door behind him. "This car is filthy," he said, looking in disgust at the food wrappers and other trash at his feet and on the dash and in the center divider and just stuffed in every crevice of the car.

"You sure know how to be grateful to someone doing you a favor," Stan said. He turned the car back on, threw it into gear, and began speeding down the road.

Ford almost snapped that he hadn't asked Stan for any favors, but that wasn't actually true. Ford had asked for a ride, it was just that Stan had pushed it far beyond anything Ford wanted from him. Still, Ford supposed he was doing him a favor. "Thank you, Stanley," he said stiffly.

"You're welcome," Stan replied, sounding about as sincere as Ford felt. Stan turned the radio on, and despite it only coming in as static initially, he still turned the volume up to near deafening levels before searching for a station.

Ford sighed and turned to look out the window. This was going to be a long car ride.