2012-05-31 - 1:34 p.m.
Can you believe that I'd never before picked up a hitchhiker? I hadn't. But, this morning, I did. I was late, as always, for work, and hung over just enough that I thought: sure. He was half-running, half-walking, and was older, and had a big belly, and looked harmless. He wore a lanyard around his neck, at the end of which flapped a security ID card, the kind of which is passed in front of an electronic reader at office-park doors. He said his alternator had died, and that has happened to me, too. And this, for some reason, felt good, and warm, the fact that we shared this mishap as we shared my little red car.
The best part was that, as I drove him the five minutes to his office, we didn't really talk. There was silence. But the windows were all the way down and the air felt nice and it was all warm. I stopped at his place and we shook hands and he told me his name. It was Russell.
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