life on the road (part two)

and now, the tale:

i had been standing along a rather deserted polish road for what seemed like hours, my last ride had dropped me off in a hurry, seems like something spooked him.  this normally wouldn’t be such a big a deal if the day wasn’t starting to give way to night, with the sky that murderous purple color of impending dark.  that is one of my cardinal rules: no rides after dusk.  however, i hadn’t anticipated this journey to last so long and i hadn’t come prepared with my tent.  my first mistake.  as such i was standing there, thumb to the road, hoping to flag down a kindred soul for the rest of my trip back home to warsaw.

a silver coup pulled into the shoulder and i approached the window, giving the driver a quick but thorough stare.  that is one of my abilities. i have learned to read people in an instant.  it’s not so hard really, most people are so simple a quick glance is all that is needed.  this man seemed decent, well-dressed in a grey suit and slicked back hair.  i asked where he was going.  warsaw.  perfect.  i judged this man as safe.  my second mistake.  i got into his car.  my third, and nearly fatal, mistake.

i put my bag onto my lap, as i always do in case a quick escape is needed at a red light, for example.  always keep your possessions with you.  if they offer to put them in the trunk, decline.

outside the darkness was quickly enveloping us.

the ride was, looking back, suspiciously uneventful for the first twenty minutes.  most rides like to talk.  about something, about anything.  but they speak.  this man said nothing since i climbed into the car with the exception of asking if the air conditioner was too high.  in the silence my eyes began to wander.  i often do that, look around the cars at what things are lying around, at what people store in their cars.  people all the world over are the same.  same fears, dreams, and predictability.  also, they tend to have the same useless trash in their cars.  this car contained peculiar items.  nothing overtly unsettling or even strange – just things that didn’t fit the illustration this man was painting as a business man returning home.

the sun was now set.   darkness had since risen.  the car headlights beamed and illuminated the road ahead.

a can of black spray paint, a length of thin metal yard fencing, and a hammer.  as i began to muse on these items and their seeming uselessness to the middle-aged business man next to me – he spoke.

“you speak with an accent.  where do you come from?”

during his speaking he never moves his head, his eyes remain focused solely on the road ahead.

“boston, across the ocean.”

“quite far indeed.  i don’t pick up hitchers often”

this seemed a strange comment to insert into an otherwise unrelated conversation.

“is that right . . . then why’s you give me a ride, at night no less?”

and what he said next is not clear to me even to this very day.

“what I usually do didn’t work earlier.”

at this point the conversation stopped.  not out of fear or distrust.  simply because i couldn’t respond, the comment was too vague.  i couldn’t make out the slightest meaning of what this meant, so we both fell back into silence.  as i was gazing out the window into the supreme darkness that choked the car on all sides, i became filled with dread.  my intuition told me to leave this car.  immediately.  but how?  it was dark, i couldn’t force him to pull over, there were no other cars around and even if there were it was too dark to see either way.  also we were in the middle of nowhere.  almost all of poland is the middle of nowhere.  you’re either in a city, or miles away from the nearest house.  nope, there was no escaping this time.  adrenaline surged through me.  despite the internal revelation, the facade remains calm.  this is the most important tactic one can take in this situation.  if the intruder fears you have figured him out – it’s over.  nope, you need him to keep playing his role and figure out how to best utilize your slight advantage of information, because at that moment all you have is that he thinks you are ignorant of your fate.

i began to try and clam myself down, to think rationally.  perhaps i had it all wrong.  after all, he showed me no signs to fear of . . . but still, gut instinct proves itself more accurate than intellectual reasoning more often than one would hope.  so it was settled, i needed to escape or determine to defend myself.  the idea of escape proved wiser, because right now we were on neutral terrain.  if i waited and plotted until we arrived wherever we were going we would be on his home turf, he was would have every advantage – i would be finished.

my eyes caught the door locks.  horror consumed me.  they were too low.  it would be impossible to unlock the door with fingers.  it was too dark to see if they were worn down intentionally, or whether they were manufactured that way, to this day i do not know.

to pull this together quickly: he needed to fill up some gas.  we pulled in to the next station.  he went into the store to pay.

i snuck out at that very moment, stole a pen he had on the console (i was unarmed, at least it was something) and headed for the only road.

about ten minutes later the car passed me slowly, stopped for a moment, then drove off into the night.

to this very day i do not know what happened that night.  i don’t know the intentions of the man or what fate was in store for me had i not escaped that car.  all i know is that i made it out, body and mind intact.  oh, also i still have the pen.

see you on the road,

derek