dir/new_school/rant: W e i r d   t i m e s 

I picked up a hitchhiker today, it wasn’t intentional, just some guy who needed a ride and asked politely.  It was a bit peculiar and made me think about the other time I picked up a hitchhiker.  It used to happen when I got off work, years ago.  This little old jewish man would motion-no words- for a ride up the street and I’d open the door of my blazer and we’d drive in silence.  I suspect, the air conditioning and shade were his main goals, of course, saving a dollar seventy five, can push you over from tuna to canned dog food for dinner, when you’re on social security or seventy five years old.  

 Truth be told he looked like a close friends grandfather, a man who I’d shared kind words with on occasion and one day found myself as his pallbearer.  And I was always reminded of him when I let the old guy have a ride.  In a word it was spooky, but I never feared for my life. 

The relationships which we develop in passing, can be as meaningless as a dark bar fuck or as small as trusting a stranger to give them a ride down the street.  

I never knew what to make of the old guy who I gave those rides too, or why he felt comfortable asking the big black guy in the tinted Blazer for a ride, but he did and I obliged.  

Today, while it was raining and I was casually chatting away in my truck, waiting to turn, a guy said something to me and I ignored him –we’re in the city.  I scanned on for more traffic and he made motion for discussion again and asked for a ride and I didn’t say –l did think it though- “Fuck no buddy”, as a matter of fact, I found myself somehow nodding and he jumped in and asked me for a ride up the hill.  I obliged, resuming my conversation on the phone.  

I tried to piece together why this individual was asking for a ride.  I knew from his walk, he was a bus rider.  He mentioned the area, which was along the same path, which was taking me back to job and I drove him up the street, across from the park, which is only a few blocks between my job and house. When he asked me to turn down a side street, I politely declined and he jovially thanked me and sprinted off down the same street he’d asked me to turn down.  

I looked around trying to piece together the facts and to give myself a Sherlock resolution.  I realized in all likely hood, he was doing an interview of some sort, it was nearing the hour and I figured he was hoping to still make it on time and maybe not soaking wet.  That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a hired killer, picked from some seedy bar, who was hired to kill some rich guys wife and hoped he might also score a truck out of the deal, but I can’t say I was all that worried about it. 

It was strange though, having survived it though, I feel like a good person, full of faith and confidence that we are better then the sum of our less savory society.  But truth be told, if you asked me for a ride on any other day, I’d probably say “Fuck no buddy” and be all the wiser for it.