#finding david

I love them.

SCHITT'S CREEK CELEBRATION

SCHITT’S CREEK CELEBRATION

David is an hour outside of town when he starts seeing smoke coming from the hood of Roland’s truck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He turns on the hazards, pulls over to the side of the road, and gets out of the truck. He doesn’t know if this is the kind of smoke that means the truck’s going to catch fire, but if it is, he wants to be out of range when that happens.

He paces along the shoulder, trying to figure out what to do. It’s late, he’s miles away from anywhere, and the truck he stole is undriveable. And—he takes his phone out of the pocket and presses the home button—his phone is dead. Of course.

He’s not sure how long he’s been walking back and forth, trying not to panic, when he sees a pair of headlights slowing as they come toward him. The instinct to panic grows even stronger as the car comes to a stop. Some creepy farm hermit is going to murder him—or worse—and, this far from civilization, nobody will ever find his body.

So he’s a little relieved when the man who steps out of the car looks friendly, and not at all creepy, and, well, kind of cute.

“Car trouble?” the man asks.

David clears his throat, a little nervous to speak to this complete stranger on the side of the highway in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t have much choice. “Um, yeah, it started smoking. I don’t know anything about cars, so…”

“Oh. Uh. Smoke goes beyond my level of expertise too. I can change a tire, but… yeah.” The man looks a little awkward now, as if he isn’t used to not being able to take charge and fix a situation like this. “Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone.”

“I’m not sure who I’d call. I’m kind of… running away?” David cringes in embarrassment at how juvenile that sounds.

The man looks off to the side for a moment before meeting David’s eyes again. “I might know something about running away.”

“Oh,” is all David can think to say.

“Do you want a ride? I was planning on stopping at a motel tonight. You can stay there overnight, call a tow truck driver in the morning?”

David almost laughs at the idea of running away from one horrible small-town motel only to be forced to stay in another one, but right now it’s his best option. “Yes,” he says, letting out a breath in a mix of exasperation and relief. “Thank you.”

“Patrick,” the man says, holding out a hand for David to shake.

David takes it and shakes. Patrick’s hand is warm, as warm as the little smile he gives David, as warm as his wide brown eyes, and, somehow, despite all that’s happened tonight, the warmth he feels from this man makes David think that maybe everything will turn out okay.

David Rose sitting in an Amish field aka the scene that makes me cry laughing no matter how many times I watch it.