the hitchhiker

rain poured down in giant beads and flew in against the car from a sideway angle. cat stevens' "i wish, i wish" rolled out of the speakers from the doors, the only speakers that worked that day. i saw her up ahead under a bridge with her thumb out.

i had a couple hundred more miles to fly, so i figured i could use the company. i slowed down and stopped just five or ten feet in front of her, still under the bridge. she, a beautiful girl light on her feet with long wavy ash-blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, ran up to the car door with a giant smile on her face. i rolled down the window.

"how far are you going?" she asked.

"up to arcata. can you pitch in?"

she didn't answer, just ran back for her bag, opened the front door and jumped in, throwing the bag on the back seat next to the dog, who didn't really seem to care at all about the new person in the car.

the radio had switched to "dallas" by the silver jews. she knew the lyrics.

"i love this song. i moved to dallas for a while, thinking that it was just this romantic," she said.

"it's not?"

"it's not."

"so how far you going?"

i picked her up hoping that i could not only get her out of the rain, but also get some help paying for gas. i had some money, probably enough. but i was more concerned about having money further on down the line. i felt like i was coasting in on the proverbial fumes more than the ones in the car. it was going to be a while before i landed myself on a payday again. but i just couldn't figure out how to ask, unsure if she heard me before she ran back and got the bag.

"i don't really have a destination as much as a force i am trying to outrun, but i think you know exactly how that feels," she said, gambling on her perceptiveness, as far as i could tell. "what's in arcata? you don't seem like a hippie."

"there's nothing there, really. a place to sleep for a couple of nights, before i head the rest of the way up to portland, where i am meeting a friend this weekend."

"a girlfriend?"

"no, an old college friend."

"so is that why i am here?"

"what do you mean?"

just then, as funny as it seems, the silver jews turned to royal city's "enemy." the lyrics over and over: "you are not my enemy, i will make my bed up for thee." i am sure it was just a coincidence.

"cash, grass or ass, right? isn't that how it works? so i got two of the three. not cash, right, 'cause then i might not even be out here."

"but i thought you were running. what are you running from?"

"an old college friend. but i am just asking what the deal is. you asked me if i could chip in, i didn't know what you meant. i don't have any money, but i got some weed ... and i guess if you are willing to take me up to portland with you, we could talk about the other."

"moving a little fast, aren't you? why don't you just roll a joint, and i will find a spot to kick it somewhere in a break from the rain? i didn't pick you up because i wanted to hump you. hell, i couldn't even see what you looked like. i could only see that you were trapped, and needed out from under that bridge."

"a romantic, huh? well what if i can't roll a very good joint?"

"i don't know, do you have a raincoat in that bag?"