Driving on the way
out of town, the uncertain cloudiness of morning had been well washed clean as passage through good times during the day.
Twice during the trip from the left lane of the highway I had seen
hitchhikers on the far right
shoulder trying to avoid the spray of passing cars over
puddles in ruts. Each time traffic so dense that by the time I could pull over it would have been too far
down the road, still a guilty tinge regardless. Knowing how it feels to watch cars for hours pass by with no intention to stop, despite how even for just a couple it would be a minor inconvenience and so helpful for those miles you need to cover. People afraid to pierce their
isolation and the intimidation of the unknown, they try to tell you both ways. Watch out for
the people hitchhiking there is no telling who it could be and what they might do to you, and at the same time, watch out for people who would pick you up hitchhiking for the same reasons. But those are the exact reasons to set yourself out floating and see just who will pick you up, do you the favor, come into contact with someone who otherwise you never would have, break down some of that isolation that everyone is trying (
if unintentionaly) to build. And so rolling through those
stoplights on the way out I caught sight of the third hitchhiker this weekend, pulled over and waited till he caught sight and came jogging up.
It turns out that he was on his way to the same city that I was, climbed in thanking me with the sweet smell of
liquor floating on his breath. As some can be, he was eager to tell me a little of
his story. A month past his sink had been clogged at home, poured
Drano down and let it sit. He went back the next day to find it still
clogged and turned on the
garbage disposal, Drano shot up and covering his face, burning his eyes. He flushed them with water and went to the hospital where they placed a suction device over his eyes to remove the rest, though his
corneas were already burned and warped. Slowly his sight was coming back, only blurry and vague compared with his previous
vision. He was frustrated,
insurance was taking as long as possible to pay, social security was still somewhere over the horizon, unable to work at his
autobody job on commission he was broke. He described going into work, just stepping through some of the motions out of
habit even though he could not do any actual repair since it required precision and care, taking his tools out and putting them back frustrated. After twenty three years the job had grown tiring, but to be forced from it was different than quitting on your own will. He explained that it would be nice to get angry and frustrated, but knew it would not do him any good or solve anything, just letting time take its course and hoping that his vision would improve over the next couple months. I dropped him off in the
south part of town, wishing him luck and him the same to me for my own side of the hours story.
They each have an endless story to tell, we all do really, and it just keeps unfolding. These are just a few broken pieces, they keep falling into place. So tell me of people you knew only by that small part of their story before parting ways.