Today I picked up a hitchhiker on the entry ramp to the interstate. Why? I have no explanation, but it's NOT like me!!
I passed him with a shrug of apology because ① I never pick up hitchhikers, and ② the front seat of my truck was packed with stuff as usual so there was no room for a passenger had I even wanted one. Then 500 feet past him, I found myself backing down the damn on-ramp, and said if he could stand the cold wind in the open back of the truck, he could ride. He accepted with a "Yes, m'am" and hopped in.
I pulled over at the next rest area to talk to him about where he was headed so I could decide where to let him off. I felt absolutely no fear. He said his name was Mickey... clean-shaven, about 45-50, clean clothes, decent quality clean winter jacket, spanky white but not new tennies, clean jeans, good backpack frame and pack... and a fabric-cased guitar. Going home to Corpus Christi, Texas, if I believe him.
I reckon Jeffrey Dahmer was also clean-cut, but somehow this man got past my radar, and my inner guides just said to back-up and give him a lift. I haven't picked up a hitchhiker (including this one) but maybe 3 times in my whole life... one was a college-girl hiker close to my home (and hers), and the other when I was about 20 was a stranded motorist in the middle of nowhere and I could see his steaming, overheated vehicle. WHAT ever possessed me to pick up THIS man????
It was a strange encounter... and aftermath, and it doesn't feel like I was a chump. I actually feel good about sharing the meager foods I had in the truck, and the few dollars I had in my wallet (which were supposed to last until next Thursday when my SS check comes).