mystery

I took a trip recently.

Gave two rides along the way. One going, one coming back.


The first one's name was Roger.

I picked Roger up not long after 7am on a cold morning. I was heading about 150 miles toward the direction he was going.

After about an hour I knew an exit coming up where there was a place to stop for food. I offered. He declined.

He said he hadn't eaten, but that he wasn't hungry.

I thought this was interesting, but didn't think more of it really.

I wasn't going all the way to where Roger was going, yet the end destination where he was going was a place that rang a bell.

It's a small city where some relatives used to live. To hear that name stirred some things inside. A place I have many fond memories of growing up. A place which the last time I was there was to bury the last relative living there. Memories of life. Memories of death.

I saw a lot in this man. I didn't have much to give him.

I gave him a ride. I was going that way anyway.

I gave him an ear. He rides with other people too.

I gave him dignity as best I know how. I have no idea how much of that he gets.

I know he was appreciative. He'd been at that spot for 15 hours waiting for someone to stop.

He'd spent the night in the cold.

I relished hearing him talk of how to keep yourself warm on nights like that. Or is that as warm as possible...? Either way, it's good to know.

We talked about what he used to do. Someone I know used to do his type of work, so I was able to ask more than just surface questions. He enjoyed talking about it.

He didn't ask for anything when I dropped him off.

I gave him something anyway. I didn't say anything when I gave to him.

There was no fanfare. No drama.

No "let me tell you why I'm doing this".

I didn't need to tell him. I am to do and be, not say.

I made a u-turn to get back on the Interstate. I saw him in the rearview mirror, walking.

To God, my friend.



On the return trip I met Jim.

It had been a rather cool night the night before too.

I picked Jim up right after picking up some lunch myself. It was about 11am.

I offered him some of my food. He likewise said he hadn't eaten, but also was not hungry.

No problem, I thought. I offered.

Jim had been waiting there 19 hours for a ride. Some locals had offered to take him a few exits up the road, but where he was was the best and busiest place to catch a ride, so he'd declined.

I was heading six hours in the direction Jim was going.

I really enjoyed talking with Jim. He was old school.

He grew up when work was work. His parents, two siblings and he worked 100 acres of wheat, 100 acres of hay, 40 acres of tobacco, 40 acres of corn and milked 29 dairy cows twice a day...yes, by hand. It was that long ago.

Jim was a hard worker, but he also said some crazy things that made me laugh.

Like "ever since Bush started those two wars people don't want to give rides anymore".

Jim was white as rice, not Arabic. I thought that was hilarious.

So it sounded as though Jim travels that road pretty often, as do I.

At one point he told me about a restaurant that I'd never stopped at along that road. He talked about that place for thirty minutes strong. To hear him talk made me hungry, and I'd eaten only an hour earlier. This place sounded REALLY good.

That place was about four hours up ahead of us.

I'm always up for trying new restaurants. I wanted to try that place. It would have been ideal for dinner.

I told Jim "We'll stop there. I'm buying."

He declined.

I didn't get it. He'd talked about this place as the best food in the land, seriously, and he's been all over the States and Canada and tried them all.

I tried to persist. He declined.

I persisted some more. He declined still.

Oh well. We stopped at a urination station and I told him I'd buy him whatever he wanted there. I was getting a bottled water cause I was thirsty.

Jim got a refill on his travel coffee cup and a couple of hot dogs.

We kept drivin'.

Eventually we drove past the place he just couldn't say enough about earlier. I didn't say anything, I wanted to see if he did. He didn't say a word, nor did he even look out the window. Oh well.

He really wanted to get to the place I was going to drop him off. If we got there soon enough it would give him three hours to try and catch another ride before it got dark.

I really enjoyed Jim. He's a good man.

We had a little point/counterpoint conversation at one time during the drive. We cracked each other up with our views, and our respective obstinance. He laughed at me. I laughed at him. It was great.

We finally reached the place where he wished to be dropped off.

He didn't ask for anything proactively, I gave somethin' anyway. He was appreciative yet likewise nonchalant.

Just as before there was no fanfare. No harp music audible. And, as is my preference, no pointed comment as to why I was helping him. Fruit is not words. Fruit is do. Fruit is be.

When Jim got out he gathered his things, got his bag out of the back and we said goodbye.

I travel that stretch of highway quite a bit. Jim does too, and said to look for him down the road.

We'll see.

To God, my friend.

As I continued the last thirty miles to my home, I thought back to the trip.

Roger and Jim.

Simple names. Common names.

I've gone many trips without seeing anyone at those places. And now two in one trip.

That was interesting.

I thought back to when Jim got out of the car. He grabbed his coffee, which I hadn't seen him drink, then reached down in the floor and picked up his two hot dogs. He hadn't touched either one of them, even though it had been cold the night before and he hadn't eaten all day.

Roger hadn't eaten either.

I then thought of when I picked up Jim. When I stopped my car he was in front of me, not behind me. I got out and walked around to move stuff from my passenger seat so he could sit down. As I got out he just stared at me and didn't move. His look seemed to be one of amusement.

As I finished clearing out my passenger seat he finally came over to the car. He wasn't all gushy and babbly and hyper-appreciative. He was relaxed. Low key. Easy going. Not in a hurry.

This from a man who had been waiting, sleeping in the cold. then waiting again for a total of nineteen hours.

I just thought about all these observations I had made. The men's demeanor, their words, their spirits.

And why didn't they eat?

I've had some other really interesting instances take place in the last couple of years on the road.

Interesting, and mysterious.

Maybe more on those later...