It‘s the last week that I‘ll be driving to Santa Barbara from Lompoc. Because I’m graduating from college next week. I’ve been living in Lompoc, California for the last three years.

It’s a little over fifty-mile drive from Lompoc to Santa Barbara. But I‘ll miss the breathtaking mountainous landscape. The air is intoxicating. I would even miss the Santa Ana winds.

The people are friendly in California. I’ve made a great many friends while I lived here and I would miss them terribly. I hope that we’ll keep in contact with one another. But I know that our lives would be busy once we started working and move back to our respective home states.

When I was about halfway to Santa Barbara I see a lone figure on the road in the distance. I can’t imagine who would be hitchhiking at this time of the day because there is rarely any traffic. And the chance of getting a ride is unlikely. I rarely pick up hitchhikers because you just never know what might happen. Especially if it is an isolated area like it is here in the mountains. But I thought why not? I could not imagine passing this guy and leaving him to walk nearly fifty miles on foot. I’ll be fine.

As I get closer I realize that the hitchhiker is wearing some kind of long, black cape. And the cape is blowing and flapping in the Santa Anna wind. He looks like he might take off at any minute? Maybe I need to just pass on by him. He’s probably some kind of serial killer or something. I was within thirty feet of him and he turns around and looks straight at me. And that’s when I saw he was also wearing a black mask over his eyes. I almost step on the gas to speed by him. I mean who the hell goes out dressed in a cape and mask in the middle of nowhere?

But my curiosity is greater than my common sense as usual. I can not bear an unsolved mystery. If I don’t find out what this guy is all about it will drive me crazy. I’m the type of guy who is nosy and curious. And I just have to find out what this dude is all about.

So I start to slow down and pull over to the side of the road about five feet behind him and honk my horn. I’m certain this guy knew I was behind him the whole time. He doesn’t stop immediately, but he slows down and turns his head in my direction and stares straight into my eyes. It felt like he was burning holes right through me. I felt my body grow hot than cold. I felt like this was my body telling me that this guy was bad news. I was about to slam my foot down on the gas hard. When suddenly this guy was at the passenger side of the front seat and he pulled the door open and pulled it closed, hard. Then he reaches over and locks the door.

I am almost afraid to look away. In fact, I find I can’t look away even when I try. I feel like my eyes are locked onto his and I can’t turn away from him. And then just as suddenly he turns his head to stare out the front window. He doesn’t say a word to me, no hello, no thanks for picking me up. Nothing, nada. Zip, zero. So I take off the parking brake, and put the car in drive, and take off.

After about twenty minutes of driving in silence, I try to summon up the courage to say something to this freak. I clear my throat about five times and manage to squeak out, “so what’s your story?”

He ignores me completely, it’s like he doesn’t see or hear me. I start to sweat big time. I’m having an adrenaline rush, first the sweats, then chills, and now my throat feels as dry as the Sahara Desert. I decide I will just have to try and calm down. I know it’s my own fault that I found myself in this precarious position. I’m always doing things that all common sense would tell anyone else no way, no how. But not me, I jump in the deepest creek or even worse the shallow water without a second thought. It’s like I have some sort of death wish or something. I’m an impulsive guy. And that’s not a good thing. Ever.

Another ten minutes goes by. I turn my head and look at him and he’s still sitting there as if he has turned into stone. No expression on his face on what I can see of his face. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

I decide to act casual as if this is an ordinary occurrence for me. Like I pick up masked strangers wearing long, black capes every day, all day long. I try again, “so are you headed for Santa Barbara for any reason in particular? I’m going to college there. This is my last week and then I graduate and I’m moving back to the Philadelphia area. Where are you from?”

He doesn’t say anything. This has got to be the weirdest guy I’ve ever met or maybe met isn’t the right word? Maybe encountered is the right word. I hope I don’t have a problem getting rid of him at some point. I pray this doesn’t turn out to be the worse mistake I ever made. “Hey buddy, I’m going to have to stop at the first gas station along the way. Do you want to get out then? I’m kind of in a hurry I have to get to school, exams this week. So, I definitely think you should find another ride when I stop for gas. I look at him, he is like a black hole, no reaction. I start sweating.

I see the gas station is up on the right. “OK, buddy we’re here. This is where you get off. I pull into the gas station and ask the attendant to fill it up. I have to go to the bathroom. So, good luck buddy.” I give him one last look and turn and head toward the men’s room.

As I open the men’s room door I look right and left and don’t see my weird masked hitchhiker. Gone, he’s gone. Good riddance buddy, good luck you’re going to need it I mumble to myself. Maybe, just maybe I have learned something from this experience. I walk toward the gas pumps. And I see nothing. My car is gone and so is my masked companion. Gone with the wind and took my freaking car with him. That is when I realize that I left my keys in the ignition. And I had just used the last of my cash to fill up my gas tank.

I run over to the gas station attendant that waited on me. “Hey did you see that masked man take off with my car?” If I wasn’t on the edge of losing my mind I would have laughed at what the words that just came out of my mouth.

The gas station attendant said, “oh yeah he left about five minutes ago. Was that his car? What’s with the mask and cape? I’m surprised you would hitch a ride with that weirdo. You should be more careful.”

At this point I feel like the top of my head is about to explode. My face is burning up. I scream, “that was my car, he stole my car. And you’re right I should have been more careful. Can I use your telephone to call the police? I don’t have any more money I used it all on the gas.”

“Yes, go ahead. How did he start your car?”

“I left the keys in the car, yes, I’m that stupid.”

I run into the gas station and grab the phone. “Hello, my name is David Stein.” I’m at the Sunoco Station on Route 101 ten miles north of Santa Barbara. My car was just stolen by a masked guy wearing a cape he is driving my car which is a Pontiac Firebird. It is Cherry red. I gave the guy a hitch and when I was using the toilet he stole my car.”

I stood there at the gas station for a good hour and a half waiting. I didn’t know what to do. After a while of standing, I sat down on the curb and covered my eyes. I was afraid that I was going to start crying in front of the gas station attendant and anyone else that happened to be there. I was mentally beating myself up, telling myself over and over how stupid I was. My last week of school, and now this happens. I feel like throwing up.

The gas station attendant comes sauntering over to me, ever so slowly. “Hey buddy, the cops just called, they said they caught your guy. He made it all the way to the outskirts of Santa Barbara and one of the local cops noticed your weirdo in the mask and cape getting out of your red car and arrested the guy after he couldn’t show proof of ownership. And then he checked your plates and it was your car. They arrested the guy and he is on his way to the slammer. They are on their way here to pick you up. You will have to go with them to show proof that the car is yours. And then he turns and walks away.

At this point, I don’t know if I feel like crying or laughing. So I do both. Wow, this day has been one for the books. I plop down on the curb again and wait and wait. Finally, the cops show up. I walk over to the car and say, “yeah, hi. I’m the guy whose car got stolen by a guy with a black mask and cape on? Is my car alright?”

The two cops look like they were on the verge of laughing at me. But hold it back. Probably because they could see the tears staining my dirty face. “Get in the back buddy, and we’ll take you to the station. Do you have proof of ownership?”

“Yes, it’s in my wallet.”
“You know you shouldn’t have picked up that weirdo, right? And you should never have left the keys in the car with a hitchhiker was in the back while you went to the bathroom, right?”

“Yes, I do. It was a mistake. Believe me, I have learned my lesson. Never trust a man wearing a mask and a cape. And who is that masked man, do you know?”

“Yes, we know who he is. His name is Michael Splain. He escaped from the Federal Penitentiary in Lompoc. They can’t explain where he got the mask and cape but they did say he was a total nut job and you’re lucky that he didn’t do more than steal your car.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky. Lucky he didn’t kill me. I know I will never pick up another hitchhiker as long as I live.”

“Ok let’s go we’ll take you to the impound lot and you can get your car back. They might charge you for having it there if it stays there overnight so we better get going.”

I jump in the back seat of the patrol car. And my internal dialogue begins, when will you ever learn to not trust everyone you meet, stop being a sucker, stop being a bleeding heart?  And on and on and on.

When we arrive at the impound the cop that talks to me says,  “so you’re the guy that got robbed by the masked marauder?”

I hang my head down. I realize that I am never going to hear the end of this episode of my life and didn’t know how I would top it. But I knew that somehow, someday I would.

 

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