The Constant Wanderer

A strange thing happened to me a few weeks ago.

I was driving to dinner and was stopped at a traffic light when a lady started walking toward my car. As soon as I noticed this, I secretly wished that the light would immediately turn green. After all, isn't it a sin to be late for dinner? When I realized that the light wasn't changing any time soon, I reluctantly rolled down my window while wishing that she would just leave me alone.

- are you busy right now?
- well I'm driving to dinner, what do you need?
- can you drive me to pick up my son at preschool?

It sounded harmless enough ... driving a mom to pick up her son at school. Then again, I have seen this scenario play out in horror movies and nothing good ever happens to the stupid driver who picks up hitchhikers. At that moment of conflict, the words of this song came to me. After a bit of processing, I knew that the decision boiled down to one simple question: is my fear of being taken advantage of and the inconvenience of losing time greater than my willingness to help one in need?

I asked her how far the school was and let her into my car. The conversation started out normally, but when she asked me the same questions over and over again, I became a little nervous. Things didn't get better when I asked her where the preschool was, all she said was "My son's name is Israel, and his name means peace." (which I knew wasn't true) To top that off, she told me that she was legally blind and had failed her driving test 5 times.

There was a point when I thought I was being duped, but fortunately for me, she wasn't lying. The preschool did exist and she really had a son is actually named Israel. However, the fun wasn't over just yet. On the way home, with Israel buckled in my backseat, she said she had something important to tell me.

-Can I hold your hand?
- What? You want to hold my hand?
- Yea, can I hold you hand?
- ehhh ... I'm driving, I think it'll be rather dangerous if I hold your hand. Why would you want to hold someone's hand in the first place?
- I'm half Indian and half Puerto Rican, in my culture that's normal.

After I refused her several more times, she suddenly reached over and grabbed my left hand! (You might have to imagine this a little, but I usually drive with my right hand on the wheel and resting the other on my leg) So there I was, holding hands with a strange woman while her 4 year old son is in my back seat. I tried to gracefully let go but she wouldn't have it, she held on to my lifeless hand with both of hers and kept talking as if nothing abnormal was going on. She then said ...

- By holding your hand, I can now read you?
-(did I pick up a cult member? or is she demon possessed?) What can you read?
- I can see that you are a student, that you love your mom, that you're gentle, sensitive ...

I don't remember what I was thinking at that point, all I wanted to do was to drive her and her son back to her house as soon as possible before she casts a spell and turns me into a frog. She probably held on to my hands for a good 5 minutes before we got back to her house. And when we arrived, she tried to convince me that she was a really good artist and that she wanted to show me her paintings. I told her that I was already late to dinner and had to sadly pass up her offer. Then I drove away a bit shaken but thankful that I was still alive.

So what's the moral of the story? Always drive with both hands on the wheel!

Labels: hands, hitchhikers