My car had broke down. Good thing there was a rain coat in the trunk. I walked slowly. The sound of the rain tapping on my hood was keeping the pace for my wet and tired feet. As I walked on yet further, I knew the next exit was at least another mile down this hill.
I smiled, my face all wet and cold with the night rain. Being glad that I was walking downhill. My luck was good tonight. Well... aside from running out of gas. I jumped back as a huge semi passed just 10 feet away. I had this timing down just right. Hear the car, turn around, put my arm out above my shoulder, as hitchhikers do, then step back as they pass me by. Still... my pants were soaked up to my knees.
It sounded like that truck dropped something in the road. It did. I heard it. A dull metallic sound in tumbling toward me in slow motion. There it was, in the road... on the concrete... just up ahead. Even though the light of the moon was shielded by the trees, through the faint glitter of moonlight, I saw it. No larger than a lunch bag, it looked like liked it belonged in a lunch bag. Before me I saw this huge twisted hunk of aluminum foil.
That's a lot of foil I thought to myself. Odd. How it bounced so many times and still ended up right there in the middle of the road, right next to the center line.
As I bent over to pick up...
I smiled, my face all wet and cold with the night rain. Being glad that I was walking downhill. My luck was good tonight. Well... aside from running out of gas. I jumped back as a huge semi passed just 10 feet away. I had this timing down just right. Hear the car, turn around, put my arm out above my shoulder, as hitchhikers do, then step back as they pass me by. Still... my pants were soaked up to my knees.
It sounded like that truck dropped something in the road. It did. I heard it. A dull metallic sound in tumbling toward me in slow motion. There it was, in the road... on the concrete... just up ahead. Even though the light of the moon was shielded by the trees, through the faint glitter of moonlight, I saw it. No larger than a lunch bag, it looked like liked it belonged in a lunch bag. Before me I saw this huge twisted hunk of aluminum foil.
That's a lot of foil I thought to myself. Odd. How it bounced so many times and still ended up right there in the middle of the road, right next to the center line.
As I bent over to pick up...
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Re: hitch hiking
Wed, March 3, 2004 - 11:01 AMAs I bent over and picked up this dirty tangled hunk of aluminum foil, I could hear another car off in the distance. I stood there for a moment, package in had, listening to the rain, not really concerned about how wet I was getting, nor even my immediate problem of retrieving a can of gas for my car.
Sometimes my mind wanders. This was one of those times. Just me and nature and some strange birthday present, and it wasn't even my birthday. I was at peace with the synchronicity of the moment. Now the car was barreling right at me. In this weather, at this time of night, the driver would not be able to see me, standing there, like I was. in the middle of the road.
Almost instinctively I step off to the side of the road, as if to do so, mere seconds before the driver would have seen me. There. A woman in a pickup flashed by my eyes. She didn't even see me. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Thu, March 4, 2004 - 4:38 PMSuddenly as if awakened from a dream, I start running. My backpack is bouncing up and down against my back. My hands are cold and getting numb. I hold tight in one hand a mysterious object, of some weight, wrapped in a tangled ball of aluminum foil. Under ordinarily circumstances this might be considered odd. But tonight, was special, as I had a long way to go, and needed to keep my mind occupied. So I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy just a little bit further
Some mysterious treasure had fallen from heaven into my hands. Talk about making the best of a situation. Someone else might of said some a trucker was being stupid by throwing trash into the road. No. I knew better. This was not garbage. This was important. This is what I've been waiting for. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Fri, March 5, 2004 - 2:42 PMOnce I got going it was a nice jog. Brought back all the old memories and habits of running up and downs the trails in Forest part. Wouldn't you know it . No sooner do I arrive at the exit ramp, I get a ride.
Still wet and cold, it felt good to get into a warn car. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Tue, March 9, 2004 - 4:24 PM"When I got in she said, "Get in back. Push that stuff out of the way. Don't worry about getting anything wet. There's nothing important back there."
That was it. No sooner did the door slam, we were moving. I sat for a moment, catching my breath and regaining my compose. This women who picked my up did not even ask me where I was going. The silence was odd... as there is usually small talk when you pick up a hitch hiker. But here, neither of us felt like speaking. Finally I muttered, "I ran out of gas. Could you take me up to the next gas station?"
Matter of factly she replied, "Sure there's a 7-11 a couple of miles up.
So here I am with this funny woman. Her and her groceries up front... and me all wet sitting in the back... amongst a truly strange garden of weird stuff. There were stacks and stacks of books and papers, all over the the seats, stacked high off on the floor, on top of... and right next to each other. It was as though I had entered some kind archeological mobile library. Or was it just a bunch of garbage. There was a toolbox, an old valise, an instrument case, and a pail filled with sea shells and colored rocks. There was a coffee pot, a walking stick, a tennis racket, and what looked like of ski boots. Obviously she didn't mind if her papers got a little wet. I asked, what's with all papers and files. Are you a writer?
This funny women with strange glasses and an large amethyst hair barrette, momentarily looked back at me, "Oh that. I'm working on my doctorial thesis." -
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Re: hitch hiking
Sun, March 14, 2004 - 3:17 PMShe looked me right in the eye... and said that. Then... just continued driving without another word. Her right arm was outstretched, holding on to the three bags of groceries that sat in the passenger seat. At this moment it was difficult to tell whether the silence was awkward... or just comfortable. A little of both maybe. She seemed like an old friend, someone I already knew... very well. I searched my memory for who, but there was no answer.
Suddenly a horn shrieked out, and then faded away in an echoing howl. Some big black limo just blew past us. Moving like they were going to a fire or something. Odd. You don't see many limo's on country roads. Boy, they were roaring... and kind of ominous... as they just held their horn down as they passed, which they really didn't have to do. How rude.
Then... what was even more odd... was this women who picked me up didn't even flinch. Nothing. She turned her head once as the car passed. The limo windows were dark, showing neither a driver nor a passenger. We both sat there watching this black sedan speed away into the distance, there, far out in front of us... and still not another word between us. I wanted to say something but for some reason I couldn't.
My thoughts once again drifted back to the gift in my backpack, which I knew was waiting there patiently, knowing that soon it would be unwrapped. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Mon, March 15, 2004 - 10:28 AMHi Paul,
I almost hate to interrupt the flow of your narrative by posting, but I felt compelled to say that I am enjoying your story thus far... I really liked your description of the backseat of her car - "a truly strange garden of weird stuff", "archeological mobile library" - I felt like I was sitting there in wonder just like the main character.
I was wondering if this is a story that you have already finished, or are you still in the process of writing it? -
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Re: hitch hiking
Fri, March 19, 2004 - 10:09 AMNo. This is not a story that has been finished. My goal is to maintain a consistent level of suspense. I just keep adding on as the mood strikes me.
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Re: hitch hiking
Fri, March 19, 2004 - 4:20 PMI must have been day dreaming, dozing or just not paying attention. I had no idea where we were. It seemed like just a few seconds since that limo roared past us, but I knew it was much longer. Her words woke me up, "Okay... I've got to stop here. You can get out and walk 1/4 mile up to town, or... if you want to wait.... I've got some time... I can take you back to your car with gas. I don't mind."
As she spoke, she pulled off the road and stopped. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Thu, March 25, 2004 - 4:33 PMThis was a fairly heavily wooded region. As soon as the car stopped I said, "Yeah. Yeah. Sure thanks. That would solve all my problems. Wow! You're going to bring me back to my car. Thanks. Really. That helps a lot... I've got dry cloths"
All she replied was, "Good then." and then drove off rather quickly down this windy gravel road. It was noisy and dusty. We both peered out ahead as the headlight of her car pointed us through the heavy nighttime dust... on this very wet and dark road. It was night... I thought. She should be driving slower. -
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Re: hitch hiking
Sat, March 27, 2004 - 10:36 AMThe car screeched to a halt... which is easy to do on dirt and gravel. Here we are at night, in the wet rain, and the car skids to a halt... not five feet from the house... right smack into the designated parking space. It was as though she had being doing this her whole life. None the less her driving was flat out reckless.
Again. There was that stunned silence again. How long did we sit there with the engine running, before she spoke. We both sat there looking forward at the bright glare of the cars headlights reflecting off the wood siding of this house. And just as bright, the window above, with neatly tied back curtains, and an odd tarnished chandler. The room was small. Too small to warrant a chandler. It was meaningless thought, but at that moment, it was not the room or the chandler that stuck us both. We sat there in utter amazement, over the fact that we both thinking the same thing at the same time, and we both knew it. A special moment? Or... just another awkward cascade of emotions.
Suddenly, certainly by memory, I was transported back five minutes and felt the car swaying back and forth as I watched the headlights show though a thick cloud of rain and dust. Rain and dust? There is no dust when it rains. Then... as if right on cue, I heard a little voice say, "How can that be? Maybe I am dreaming."
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