Late night (early morning), the streets of Mayberry. Don Curtainer-Taylor at the wheel of the cruiser, a 1960 Ford sedan with a red rotating beacon on top. Close up of Don's face shows he's beat: he's had a rough night. No sleep, fight with the wife. He drives slowly down the residential street. Then he sees someone up ahead on the sidewalk, running. As he approaches, he sees it's a woman in early 1960s phys ed garb: shorts and a tee-shirt, tennis shoes. Her pony tail bounces, and as Don draws up to the side he notices that's not all that bounces. He waves at her. She stops, he reaches over and rolls down the passenger window.
Don: Anything I can do to help?
Miss. Cramp: No Sheriff, I'm just running. You know, for exercise?
Don: (with a quizzical expression): OK...
Miss. Cramp: Lots of folks are doing it.
Don: Really? Want a ride?
Miss. Cramp (hesitant): Well, I don't know... I guess so, but only up to my street.
Don: Hop in!
Don and Ms. Cramp ride along. The radio's on, playing the news. Apparently, a doctor in Cleveland has murdered his wife.
Miss Cramp: Oh that's so creepy.
Don: Yeah, pretty creepy.
Miss Cramp: You can let me off here.
Don: I'll take you all the way home.
Miss Cramp: Oh no, that's ok. This will be fine.
Miss Cramp gets out, jogs off into the darkness. Close-up of Don. His eyes are getting bleary. Suddently sitting next to him it seems that Jed Clampet has materialized. Jed is under the impression that Don is his son.
Jed: Heh heh. Hot tomato, eh Jethro? I'd like to jog her up and down a few times. Hey, what're you starin' at Jethro? I swear, sometimes you jest ain't right, boy. Here, take a swig off'a this jug. Looks like you need it.
Don: Don't mind if I do. Say, how did you get here?
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