Tag Archives: hitchhiker

ENDGAME

He unfolds himself from the driver’s seat of his ancient Peugeot. It used to be Cherry Red, but little remains of the original paint. As he stands up, he rubs the small of his back and slams the door closed. It hasn’t shut properly since he was side-swiped in a motel parking lot last month.  

The sign, Rooms for Rent, by the day or the week in the front of the hotel blinks over and over again. “Just another day in paradise.” He mumbles to himself. As he walks through the hotel door, the bell jingles once and then falls to the dirty cement.

Jorge yanks out his wallet and looks for his credit card. He glances at the worn photo of his former wife and dated pictures of his children, Mike and Flossie. He wonders if he‘ll ever see them again. And then he slaps his credit card down on the chipped and faded counter and says, “A single for the night in the back.”

The hotel clerk takes the credit card without looking up and runs it through the credit card machine. “Sorry buddy but this card has been declined. Do you have another one?”

Jorge rubs his hand across his unshaven face and sighs deeply. He rummages through his wallet and finds his backup credit card. The one he only used for emergencies like this. When he hadn’t made a payment on his credit card recently. He sighs and shoves the card in the desk clerk’s general direction.

“Room 33 just make a left out of the door and around the back. Checkout is at eleven AM. There are towels in the room. If you need anything else just let me know. Then he dismisses Jorge by blinking his eyes slowly and goes back to reading a cheap paperback novel called Endgame.

Jorge yanks open his car door and gets in and moans. “Shit, shit, shit. my back is killing me. He pictures himself lying in a deep and luxurious tub with hot water jets spraying him in every direction. As he parks in front of the room, he notices that the number on his room is askew. Not a good sign. He painfully extracts himself from the car and goes to the trunk and heaves out his suitcase. Which is held closed by an old belt. He walks up to the door and slides the key card into the slot. It doesn’t work the first time or the second. But the third time is the charm.

As Jorge enters the room, he realizes any fantasy he has about soaking in a luxurious tub is just not going to pan out. He plops his suitcase down on the bed and walks toward the bathroom. He stands in the doorway. He feels his last hope disappear and depression sets in.

Instead of a tub, he stands before what looks like a coffin standing on end. The plastic shower curtain doesn’t quite reach across the width of the shower coffin. The tile floor is cracked and stained. The showerhead is minuscule. There are two towels. He puts one on the floor outside the shower. The other one has a large yellow stain in the middle. He tosses it across the closed toilet.

Jorge yanks off his clothes and shakes them out. He hangs them on a metal rod that’s sticking out of the wall across from the bathroom. He paces his shoes under what he guesses is the table. A rough piece of lumber nailed to the wall. He has been in quite a few shitholes recently but this one is going to set the standard to a new low.

As he steps into the shower and turns on the water, it trickles out slowly and wheezes, and then spits out a reddish-brown residue that smells like sulfur. Jorge opens the hot water spigot all the way up. Then the water comes out in spurts and finally lukewarm and less acrid smelling. And that’s where it remains. Jorge often uses his time bathing to consider how his life is going. And if he should consider going on at all.

Today is one of those days when he doesn’t know if it’s worth going on any longer. He can’t remember the last time anything went his way. He’s afraid he’s will be unemployed in the very near future. He hasn’t made any sales in over a month. He sells large construction and landscaping equipment. Mostly, he has been selling used lawn equipment.

The main problem was Jorge just didn’t give a good god damn about lawn equipment or construction equipment for that matter. He can’t fake it anymore. He really needs to find a new line of work. But he didn’t even have the energy to consider what in the hell he could do.  He just doesn’t have the where with all to do much of anything. Jorge is winding down like an old watch. In fact, Jorge is running out of time.

He realizes that the water is running cold, and he turns the spigot, and it falls off. Surely, this is another bad sign. He steps out of the shower and grabs the stained towel and attempts to dry off with what amounts to a dirty paper towel.

Jorge is so exhausted that he just yanks on his underwear and throws himself across the bed. And falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

There is a blinding light. Someone is parking in front of his room. He quickly jumps off the bed to double-step it to the window to close the curtains. He attempts to pull them shut. He tugs them so hard that one of the curtains comes off in his hand.

He is immobilized for a few moments trying to decide what he should do next. The answer comes when he hears his stomach growling angrily. Time for lunch. He heads to the bathroom and throws his somewhat wrinkled and slightly dirty clothes back on.

He gets back into his car and decides to stop at the first restaurant he sees. He is beginning to give up hope when he sees a sign which says in big letters, EATS, GOOD EATS.

“Well, that’s good enough for me.” He parks in front of the entrance. He looks in the picture window. There’s quite a crowd. He steps out of the car and slams the door shut.  Then he pushes open the restaurant door, it bangs closed behind him. He can hear Elvis singing Jailhouse Rock. He likes this place already. One of the waitresses yells out shrilly, “If you can find a seat, take it.”

Jorge scans the room from one section of the restaurant to the other. He notices a small, unoccupied table. He double-times it over there and plops down. He immediately regrets it because it sends a searing pain up his spine. A waitress with a beehive hairstyle and deep red lipstick stops at his table and flings a menu onto it. “Be back in five. Take a gander.”

Five minutes later, she’s back at his table. “Yeah, so what can I do you for?”

“I’ll take a hamburger, rare with all the works. And some spicy fries, no veggies, and a cup of coffee, hot. Thanks.” As he waits, he looks around at the locals. Usually, these kinds of places are filled with truck drivers, but not this one. It looks like dinnertime at the old people’s home. He can’t see a single customer here who is under sixty-five. It’s weird. For the first time in years, he feels young. A smile creeps across his face. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. It makes his cheeks hurt a little. But it’s a good hurt. Maybe he is in the Twilight Zone or something.

The waitress brings his dinner and a large carafe of coffee. “Enjoy.” She turns to go, and he says, “Hey, wait a minute, are you having some kind of meeting for old people? I mean seniors or something?”

“What, no? What are you talking about? Just give me a yell if you need something else?” Jorge shakes his head. Just as he’s about to take his first bite of the huge and greasy hamburger, he hears someone pulling out the chair across from him. He looks up and sees a young woman sitting across from him. Now he knows he’s in the Twilight Zone.

“Hello, I hope you don’t mind, but this is the only empty seat in the restaurant and I’m starved.”

“Mind, no. No, I don’t mind at all. Glad for the company.” He gapes across the table at her. She has purple hair. One side hangs down to her shoulders. The other side is shaved and has a Celtic knot tattooed on it. She has piercings through her nose, lip, and eyebrow. Her right ear has a large safety pin in it with a silver eye with a sapphire dangling from it. There’s a tattoo on her bare shoulder. It’s a dragon, and it continues down her arm. It’s purple and yellow. There are three tattooed stars down the middle of her chin. Jorge can’t stop staring.

“Well, this is the first restaurant I found in the last twenty miles. Hey, what’s with all the geezers?”

“Well, I think I’m going to get a chili cheese dog with French fries.”

Jorge gulps and thinks, this is the woman I’m going to marry.

“My name is Jorge, and you are?”

“My name? Oh yeah, sure, well, my friends all call me Lenny, but my real name is Lenore. I have a thing for Lenny Kravitz. Do you know who he is?

“Lenny Kravitz, hell yeah. But that goes back about twenty years. You must have been a kid then.”

“Yeah, I was a kid, but my big brothers listened to him. My favorite cut is. Fly Away. Do you know that one?”

“You’re damn right I do. I want to get away. I want to fly away. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. My favorite is Let’s go and see the stars, the Milky Way, or even Mars, where it could just be ours.”

The waitress comes over to their table and says,” Sorry for taking so long, but we are really getting slammed today. Although it’s always busy here. We’re the only restaurant for about twenty miles.  What can I get for you?”

“Could I get a large order of spicy fries and a chili dog? And a coke, thanks.”

“Coming right up.”

“So, how did you end up here in Podunk? Did your car break down or what?”

“No, Lenny believe it or not, I’m a traveling salesman. I sell commercial lawnmowers and construction equipment. But I’m thinking about changing my jobs. I kind of burned out on lawnmowers and traveling. If you know what I mean. How about you? What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Traveling Salesman, wow, like Death of A Salesman with Dustin Hoffman?”

Jorge looks over at Lenny and stares momentarily. And shakes his head. He thinks she really has me pegged. His stomach clenches up. “What, I don’t think I ever heard of that before. Sorry.”

“Oh excellent, here comes my food. I haven’t eaten since yesterday at lunch.”

“Here you go, honey, enjoy.”

Lenny doesn’t say another word until she is finished eating. She has all but inhaled the food. And then she sucks down the coke. Jorge doesn’t know if he should be disgusted or impressed. He’s never seen a woman eat that much or that fast before. He decides to be impressed.

“How did you end up here, Lenny?

“Well, like I said, I was looking for a restaurant.”

“Do you have a destination, or are you just on a road trip?”

“Well, Jorge, I guess you could say that it is an unplanned road trip. My old man got up on the wrong side of the bed one night and decided to rearrange some of our furniture. And then he got that look in his eyes like my face was the next thing on his list that he wanted to rearrange. He’s done it before. And I just decided I had enough of his crap and grabbed some of my stuff, and took off. I hitched my way here.”

“So, where are you headed?”

“No idea, just as far away as possible from the shithole I just left.”

“Hey, how about a dessert, my treat.”

Jorge motions to the waitress to come over. “Yes, we would like to get a couple of desserts. What do you have?”

“Well, let’s see, we have apple pie, or we have apple pie. What would you like? Jorge looks at Lennie and winks. “Let me think. I believe we will each have a large slice of that apple pie you mentioned.”

As the waitress walks across the room, Lennie says, “quite the charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she really has that Southern charm down.”

“I really enjoyed having your company at dinner. I usually eat alone when I’m traveling for my job. It gets kind of lonely.”

“Thanks, Jorge. It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll meet again someday. Take care.”

They parted ways outside the restaurant door. Jorge climbs into his car and looks in the direction Lennie walked toward. “Shit, my first opportunity, and I blow it.” Jorge turns the key in his ignition and revs up the engine, and flies down the street. He almost misses Lenny standing on the corner with her thumb out.

Jorge pulls over to the curb and says, “How about a ride? You mentioned that you didn’t have any destination in mind?”

Lennie stares at him and looks up and down the street. There are no other cars on the road. “Sure, why the hell not? Where are you headed anyway?”

“My first stop is Raleigh, NC. It’s a little over four hours from here, give or take. I have an appointment to talk to a dealer who’s considering buying some of my company’s used mowers. Hopefully, this will be a big sale because I only get a small draw. I live on my commissions.”

“Gotcha. I think I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get there.”

The drive from Charleston, SC, to Raleigh, NC, was a quiet one. Jorge’s imagination, however, is in overdrive. He keeps glancing over at the sleeping Lenny. She’s snoring loudly. Her mouth is wide open. Spittle is dripping down the side of her face. Still, Jorge finds her irresistible. He can’t put his finger on just what attracts him. Nevertheless, he feels that pull. He knows from his past experience that every time he feels this way towards a woman, disaster is on its way. It never failed. Most likely, she would turn out to be a pill-popping maniac or a female serial killer. He has no doubt. He’s attracted to sociopaths.

As Jorge pulls off the highway I 85 onto Discovery Drive. He sees a sign for J.P. Palm Inc. Large Equipment Sales and Rental.  He pulls in. He looks over at Lenny, and she’s still sound asleep. He doesn’t want her to wake up and not know where he went. “Lenny, wake up. We’re here, and I have to go in and talk to the sales manager. Lenny, wake up.” Nothing. He gives her shoulder a little shove and then a slightly harder one. He calls out loudly, “Lenny, wake up.” Nothing. He decides to write a note and tell her he’ll be right back. He puts the note under the passenger side sun visor.

Jorge yanks the door open and walks over to the counter, and hands him his business card. “Hello, my name is Jorge Keppel. I have an appointment with the purchasing manager. Is he available?

“Yeah, sure, hold on, I’ll buzz you in.”

Jorge walks through the door and sees a long hallway with five identical doors. He walks down the hall until he finds one that is labeled Harry Enright, purchasing manager. Jorge knocks and is greeted by a gruff, “come in already.”

“Hello, I’m Jorge Keppel. I represent Snyder and Sons Equipment out of Charlotte.”

“Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, we spoke on the phone, and you said you might be interested in some of our products. I emailed you with the specs of some of our equipment.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, sorry, it’s been one of those days. I meant to contact you before you came all the way out here. But my boss just informed me yesterday that he purchased the equipment at a reduced price. While he was at a meeting with another company. And we won’t be buying any further equipment until after the fiscal new year. Sorry for the trouble. I got busy and didn’t get around to calling you.”

Jorge stares at him momentarily and has to swallow his anger. “Oh, well, that is unfortunate. I hope you will keep my company in mind. Please contact me if I can assist you in any way. Jorge turns and opens the door. He feels like his head is going to explode. As he walks back down the hall, it seems a mile long. He thinks he’ll never get to the end. He keeps mumbling, shit, shit, shit.”  He walks out past the counter and out the door, never to return.

When Jorge looks into his car’s front seat. He doesn’t see Lenny sleeping or awake. He looks in the back seat. Nada. “Crap, crap, crap, I give up. Just when you think it can’t get any worse than this, it does. Dammit.” Jorge looks up and down the street and doesn’t see a living soul. Across the street, he sees a bar that has seen better days. “Well, it can’t hurt to go and have a look in there.”

He walks across the street and into the bar. It’s empty save for a lone customer who is passed out and has his head on the bar. And the bartender doesn’t look that sober, either. “Hey, did a young woman with tattoos come in here in the past twenty minutes or so?”

“Nope, I would have remembered her. Just Old Charlie here. He’s my best customer this time of day, sorry.”

As Jorge steps outside, he sees Lenny getting into a car that must have just pulled over while he was in the bar looking for her. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He considers yelling out to her, but what’s the point, he thinks? The car pulls out so quickly that the tires spin in the loose gravel. And just like that, Lenny leaves his life just as unexpectedly as she arrived. If he weren’t so accustomed to disappointment, he would get depressed. As it was, he was already there, so he just sighed and put the car into drive, and headed toward his next destination Fayetteville. It would be a lonely two-and-a-half-hour trip.

Jorge was accustomed to being lonely. It’s his normal state of mind. About halfway to Fayetteville, he decides to stop at the next gas station and fill up. As he pulls off the main road from the ramp, he notices a car parked on the emergency shoulder. The only reason it gets his attention is that he sees a lot of frantic movement in the back seat. And then the back door flies open, and a young woman shoots out and takes off on foot.

He watches the woman, and then he realizes that the woman is none other than his Lenny. Jorge sees a somewhat rotund man attempting to catch her on foot. But with little success since he didn’t seem to be in any sort of physical shape to run anywhere. Jorge charges at him with his car and no doubt put the fear of god into him. As the fat man jumps back onto the shoulder of the road, he rolls and struggles onto his feet again and into his vehicle.

Jorge continues down the road toward Lenny. He begins beeping his car horn. Lenny turns her head momentarily in his direction. And apparently assumes he is a fat boy. Jorge sticks his head out the driver’s side window and starts shouting,” Lenny, Lenny, Lenny, it’s me, Jorge, stop. Stop, Lenny, it’s me.”

At this point, Lenny realizes it’s him, and so Jorge slows up and pulls onto the shoulder in front of her. He opens the passenger’s side door, and she all but falls onto the back seat. “Christ, it’s about time you showed up. What took you so long? I almost got raped. Holy shit.”

“It’s about time I showed up. What is that supposed to mean? Why did you get into a car with a stranger? Why didn’t you wait for me? I wasn’t even gone that long? You are lucky I was headed in this direction, or I wouldn’t even be here now to save your ass.”

“A stranger? You are just as much a stranger as that guy. I don’t really know you either. And I didn’t know how long you had been gone. I was asleep.”

“Well, I, for one, I didn’t try to rape you, did I? You’re little nuts. Do you know that? Do you want to come with me or not? I can find a bus stop somewhere around here, or you can go hitch. Which, by the way, is getting into cars with strangers? And you told me you do that all the time.”

“I’m on my way to Fayetteville, and since you’re in my car, you are too. Unless you want to get out along the way somewhere, just let me know.”

“Yeah, I will, don’t worry. I think I’m going to take a nap now. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Yeah, right, thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll be there in less than three hours. I’ll wake you when we get to our destination. I don’t want a repeat of your last performance. I’ll be in and out in a half-hour. Then we can get something to eat. Is that all right with your highness?”

Lenny was already asleep when he asked her the last question. But what the hell? He had the satisfaction of saying it anyway. Jorge turns on some tunes to keep him company on the drive. Lenny is already snoring and drooling. She sure wasn’t any sleeping beauty. But he still had to admire her spirit.

Jorge is making a great time, and he will be at the exit for Route 87 in about fifteen minutes. And Manito Construction Company was only about ten minutes from there. He wishes himself luck and mentally crosses his fingers and his toes. He needs a win badly. Otherwise, he will definitely be looking for employment when he gets back home. He glances over at Lennie, and he can see she’s still breathing but other than that no signs of life. She isn’t proving to be much company on the road. Since it seems being in a car puts her to sleep like a newborn baby.

As he pulls into the parking lot of Manito Construction, he considers his tactic for selling some top-of-the-line equipment to James Rathgeb, the Parts and Equipment guy at this division office. Jorge decides it’s time to wake up Lenny to prevent another unpleasant outcome. “Hey Lenny, wake up. We’re here. No response. “Hey, Lenny, wake the hell up. We’re here.”

“Here, where’s here?”

“We are at my next stop. Wake up. Stay in the car if you want to keep riding with me. I don’t want a repeat of the last experience anytime soon. I won’t be that long. Then we can get some food. Do you understand? Stay in the car? I’ll be back in a few.”

Lenny watches as he walks through the front door and talks to the guy at the counter, and then disappears through what she supposes must be a door.

Jorge walks through and looks for the parts and Equipment department. He sees it on the left and briefly knocks and walks in after hearing someone with a gravelly voice say, “Yeah, what?”

“Hello, I’m Jorge Gutierrez. I called earlier about talking to you about some used equipment my company has for sale. Jorge hands him his business card. I was told that you were having difficulty finding equipment at your local dealer. As it turns out, we have two 2016 CATERPILLAR 289D available with the front-loading tree grinding head if you need it. Here’s the information and the price. We can get to you by end of the week if need be.”

The manager looks at the schematic and the price and stands up and says,” Ok, if you can give me a discount for buying both, we have a deal.”

Jorge is so happy he feels like doing a jig. But controls himself and just nods,” yeah, I think we can do that.  I’ll fax you a copy of the details and give you a delivery date when I get back to my office tomorrow. If I can help you in the future, just give me a buzz on my cell.”

Jorge shakes his hand and walks out of the office into the vestibule and out the door. He is smiling from ear to ear. Finally, the worm has turned. It’s the first good luck he has had in six months. Calls for a celebration.

Jorge looks in the car window, and Lenny is asleep in the back seat. He pulls the door open and sits in the driver’s seat. He checks his cell to see what time it is. His stomach tells him it’s dinner time. “Hey, Lenny, wake up. It’s time to go. Jorge leans over and yells, “Get up. It’s time to get up. It’s time to go.”

Nothing, she’s still sound asleep. Jorge gets out of the car and goes around to the back door, and opens it. He leans in and gives her a shake. Nothing. He shakes her again. One eye opens, then the other. She moans, and her eyes roll back in her head. “Lenny, please wake up. Are you all right?

Lenny opens her eyes and asks, “What the hell is going on? I told you no funny stuff.”

“Funny stuff, I thought you were dead or overdosed or something.”

“Oh, well, I haven’t slept in a couple of days, what with my old man and all. And then I was hitchhiking. I’m just tired, is all. Calm down. Caffeine, that’s all I need, caffeine.”

“Look, Lenny, I’m finished with my business here. I’m going to check into a hotel for the night, get a shower and go out to dinner. As he was about to start the car, Jorge’s cell started ringing. He looks at the number, and he could have sworn that it was his old phone number. From when he was still married.

“Hello, Jorge Gutierrez here. Can I help you?”

“Jorge, this is Malory. I need you to come home to see your children. They haven’t seen you or gotten more than a Christmas or birthday card from you in almost two years. Mikey’s been getting into some trouble in school. And Flossie has been skipping school. They need a father in their life, Jorge. And that’s you whether you like it or not. When can you come here?”

Jorge doesn’t answer right away. It never occurred to him that his kids missed him or needed him. He hadn’t been much of a dad to them. He was always on the road and didn’t see them that often. And when he was home, he slept most of the time or watched sports. And then he pictures his kids the last time he saw them. They were standing in the driveway, crying. His wife told him,” if you feel that way, then just leave. We don’t need you.” The kids were calling out, “Daddy, daddy, don’t go. We’ll be good.”

“Put them on the phone, Malory, please.”

“Dad, is it really you? Are you coming home? Me and Mikey really miss you. Please come home.”

“Hi Mikey, I miss you too. I thought you and Flossie would be better off without me. I guess I was wrong. I’ll come home this weekend to see you guys. I really missed you too. Put your mom back on, please.”

“Malory, I’ll be there this weekend, late Saturday afternoon. Is that alright?”

“Yes, we will be looking forward to seeing you. We missed you, Jorge. We all do.”

“I’ll see you then, Malory. I’ll give you a call when I am about a half-hour away. See you Saturday, bye.”

Jorge looks in the back seat. He has completely forgotten that Lenny was back there. As he looks at her, he realizes that he really didn’t have anything in common with her. And really, she’s a stranger. He had just been getting desperate. “Lenny, that was my wife, I mean my former wife. I have to go home. My kids need me. So, let’s go get that meal, and then I will have to be on my way. If you still want a lift, I can take you anywhere you want to go along the way.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. It makes no diff to me. Wake me when we get to the restaurant.”

Jorge starts the car and puts it into gear. It occurs to him that today was the first day of the rest of his life. And a smile appears on his face, and it stays there.

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THE HITCHHIKER

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 Masked Man in a black cape

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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