Tired of her fantasies， Francesca looks up to the sun to clear her mind. It is blinding. When she looks back out onto the road， her vision is momentarily blurred. Until， slowly，out of the blue， she sees：
A TRUCK driving toward her house， kicking up dust， like some phantom appearing through the etheric plane. Francesca isn't even sure it's real. She sips cool drink & blinks to regain her vision. The truck slows down and turns into her driveway. Francesca watches with suspicious curiosity as：
The truck stops and ROBERT KINCAID steps out. Flashing his blue eyes in her direction， he smiles and says：
ROBERT Sorry to bother you， but I've got a feeling I'm lost.
Francesca remains guarded.
FRANCESCA Are you supposed to be in Iowa？
FRANCESCA：Well， you're not that lost.
He laughs. She puts down her tea and crosses to him.
ROBERT I'm looking for a covered bridge out this way…… uh…… wait a minute ——
He looks through a small notepad for the name. Francesca finds herself scanning his body.
FRANCESCA Roseman Bridge？
ROBERT That's it.
FRANCESCA Well， you're pretty close. It's only about two miles from here.
ROBERT Oh， terrific. Which way？
Pause as Robert awaits directions and Francesca scans a sudden impulse.
FRANCESCA Well， I can take you if you want.
Robert is pleased， but a bit surprised as is Francesca who anxiously recants：
Or I can tell you. I can take you or tell you. It's up to you. I don't care. Either way.
Robert smiles finding her sudden nervousness charming.
ROBERT Well ——
Suddenly， from the opposite direction of the road， A CHEVY barrels by. The driver， FLOYD， toots his horn.
FLOYD Howdy， Francesca.
FRANCESCA Hey， Floyd.
He drives off. Francesca knows they've been seen. Slightly annoyed by Iowain neighborliness， she turns to Robert and with some defiance says：
It'd be better if I show you， I think.
ROBERT If I'm not taking you away from anything.
FRANCESCA No. I was just going to have some iced tea then split the atom， but that can wait.（he smiles）
I just have to get my shoes.
Robert watches her as she turns and heads back to the house. He watches her lift her blouse and tuck it into her jeans，revealing her shapely hips and buttocks. He turns back to the truck and notices the mailbox —— MR & MRS. RICHARD JOHNSON. He nods as if he knew all along and begins to make room on the front seat for Francesca.
INT. JOHNSON HOUSE
Francesca is slipping on her boots when she suddenly stops.“What am I doing？”， she asks herself silently.
EXT. JOHNSON DRIVEWAY
Francesca approaches the truck. On the door， she reads：KINCAID PHOTOGRAPHY， BELLINGHAM， WASHINGTON.
Robert is clearing away paper cups， banana peels， paper bags，photography equipment. In the back， Francesca notices a cooler and a guitar case.
ROBERT I wasn't expect company. Let me get this out of the way.
He hauls a case of film from the front to the back. Francesca notices his tanned， muscular arm move in one graceful sweep.
Okay. All set.
Francesca smiles. They both get into the truck.
Now， where are we going？
FRANCESCA Out， then right.
EXT. MADISON COUNTY ROAD - DAY
As the truck drives， we see no one else in sight.
INT. KINCAID'S TRUCK
They drive in silence. Francesca is enjoying the breeze against her face.
ROBERT Pretty country.
She looks out at the vast expanse. It depresses her.
ROBERT There's a wonderful smell about Iowa —— very particular to this part of the country. Do you know what I mean？
ROBERT I can't describe it. I think it's from the loam in the soil. This very rich， earthy kind of…… alive……
No. No， that's not right. Can you smell it？
FRANCESCA（shakes her head）
Maybe it's because I live here.
ROBERT That must be it. It's a great smell.
Francesca wants to know more about him.
FRANCESCA Are you from Washington originally？
ROBERT Uh-huh. Lived there till I was twenty or so and then moved to Chicago when I got married.
FRANCESCA Oh. When did you move back？
ROBERT After the divorce.
ROBERT How long you been married？
FRANCESCA Uh…… uh……
Umm…… long time.
ROBERT You don't look like a native， if you don't mind my saying so.
FRANCESCA No， I don't mind. I'm not from here. I was born in Italy.
ROBERT Well， from Italy to Iowa —— that's a story！
Whereabouts in Italy？
FRANCESCA Small town on the Eastern side no one's ever heard of called Bari.
ROBERT Oh yeah， Bari. I've been there.
ROBERT Oh， yeah. Actually， I had an assignment in Greece and I had to go through Bari to get the boat at Brindisi. But it looked so pretty I got off and stayed for a few days. Breathtaking country.
Francesca is overcome by the idea of such freedom.
FRANCESCA You just…… got off the train because it looked pretty？
ROBERT Yeah. Excuse me a sec.
He reaches over with one arm， brushing slightly against her thigh. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out a pack of Camels and a Zippo lighter.
ROBERT Like one？
Francesca， who doesn't usually smoke， accepts.
She takes a cigarette out of the pack. Robert drops the pack and， with the same hand， flicks open the Zippo and ignites it. Francesca leans over. The road is bumpy and a breeze blows through both windows.
She cups her hands around his to shelter the flame. She feels his skin for a brief moment.
She sits back and enjoys the ride and her cigarette as Robert lights up. Silence. They drive.
ROBERT So， how long you've been living here？
FRANCESCA Long.（changes subject）
You just got off the train and stayed without knowing anyone there？