Good Thing You Stopped

Good thing you stopped.

I could have been on this road all night.

This road goes into Richmond. Richmond is all right, but after Richmond is Grafton, and Grafton is rough. Grafton is rough on Friday’s. Today isn’t a Friday, but if you ever find yourself driving on a Friday, I would take the road around Grafton. There are seventeen gas stations all in a row, and each one is worse than the last. Grafton is all gas stations and Olive Garden’s. There used to be a Ponderosa Steakhouse back when those existed, but now it’s just another Olive Garden. You have to call for a reservation. Imagine that. A reservation at the Olive Garden. That’s why you won’t see me in Grafton. On a Friday or any other day. But Friday’s are rough.

They’re not that great in Richmond either.

It’s been a few years since I tried hitching a ride, but my car broke down yesterday, and my nose started bleeding today, and now it’s not bleeding anymore, and that means it’s time to see a doctor. A nosebleed is nothing to write home about, but when the bleeding stops, that means you’re out of blood, and you have to go see the doctor.

You can drop me off in front of any hospital. It doesn’t matter which doctor I see, as long as I see one. Lucky for you, I won’t bleed in your car. It’s a nice car. How much did you pay for it? Nice seats. Comfortable, but not so much that you’d fall asleep in here. You don’t want a sleeping hitchhiker in your car. I wake up startled, and the next thing you know, I’m flailing at you. Swatting at you. Hitting you hard in the head until you drive off the road and kill us both. You wouldn’t want that. I wouldn’t want that either. I have a death wish, but my wish is death by drowning. It’s the only way I want to go. Every year I go to the ocean and walk in until I’m fully submerged. Turns out I can hold my breath underwater for two or three hours at a time if I have to. Science should study me, but they won’t, because I’d ruin all their conclusions.

Has anybody ever told you that you drive too fast? I’m not saying you are and I’m not saying I would tell you if you were, but you should consider your speed. These are country roads. Nobody comes down these roads, but every so often, an animal will jump out at you and if it’s a big enough animal, it’ll cut through this car like a breakfast knife through a hard-boiled egg. A deer could do it, but that’s common. You’re not impressed by that. You think you’d spot a deer--and you could. You could spot a deer. There are other things you wouldn’t spot though. I’ve been on these roads at night. I’ve seen creatures that would kneel down and let you drive right into them, because they know they’re tougher than whatever plastic and chrome compose these modern cars.

I bet you feel safe driving one of these, huh?

That was always my problem with vehicles. The false sense of security they give you. You think some glass and four doors and a radio playing Tom Waits is going to keep you safe from everything the outside has to offer. If somehow you do manage to keep all that nature at bay, then you pull over and invite some of it inside. You do a good deed. You see someone standing at the side of the road with a nose that’s got blood crust on it, and you tell yourself that you could never bring yourself to keep driving on.

How many hospitals have we passed?

You haven’t even noticed, have you?

I was going to say something, but you’re driving so fast I was worried you’d slam on the brakes, and that’s bad for the car. You’re gripping the steering wheel too tight. You’re not breathing the way you should be. You should focus on your breath. Unclench your hands. Tap on the wheel. Tap something out. Tap “Downtown Train” or “Martha” or some other song you don’t know all the words to. No excuse for not knowing lyrics, but I’ll forgive it for now, because I’m in a forgiving mood. On Monday’s I forgive--that’s what I do. Good thing you caught me on a Monday.

It is Monday, isn’t it?

You want to know what it feels like to go all the way into the water until you can’t open your eyes, because of the way the salt stings? It’s oppressive until it’s liberating. That’s how it goes when you decide that you’re curious about what’s on the other end of that which scares the hell out of you so badly all you want to do now is accept it. Welcome it in. Pull over to the side of the road and say “Need a ride?”

Good thing you stopped.

A few others did, but I didn’t like their cars. I didn’t like how the seats felt. I went a few miles with them--each of them, but then I fell asleep. I was startled when I woke up in those cars. Not a smooth ride--not in any of them. Not like this. This goes so easy down the road even with all the potholes and rocks and curves. You go around those curves like you’re sure nothing’s coming at you on the other side.

I admire that.

Nobody drives down these roads at night, but a curve is still a curve. I used to think they designed them to summon up trouble. That’s why I always wait right before the road curves if I need a ride. It’s been a few years, but I remembered not to wait on the other side of the curve. I don’t like being anybody’s surprise.

You don’t like surprises, do you?

No.

I didn’t think you would.

Nobody wants to be surprised when they’re trying to focus on the road.

That’s the most important thing.

The road.

That’s all there is.

What day is it again?

Is it a good day would you say?

Hard to tell.

You never know what kind of day you’re going to get until you stick your thumb out and see what pulls up in front of you.