A Post about Saturday
Well, that was weird.
I was driving in to work, leaving home about 5:40 a.m. As I reached about 4 blocks before the end of town, a woman was hitch hiking. I didn't stop, but then I thought what the hell and turned around. I was moving stuff out of the from passenger seat into the back when she came up.
She asked if I was going to Portland. I said I was going that way. She said she needed to get to 82nd and Sandy. So I said okay.
I was listening to a book on tape as she got in. She told me her name and I told her mine. Then she asked where I worked. Then I asked where she worked. I stopped talking, listening to the book. A few seconds later, she started talking again. About her car that she hadn't had in 26 days but was going to pick up a some mechanic near where I was dropping her.
Finally, I turned off the book and turned on some music. As we approached a splitting of the freeways, I asked how I should get where she wanted. She told me the exit and I followed the directions and let her off. Then I continued straight, but realized I'd have to turn around to get back to the freeway. I could see that she had walked further in the same direction as we had been driving before I let her off. But I thought she had said her mechanic was behind where she got off.
So I don't know if there really was a car she was picking up or what. (When I looked up 82nd and Sandy on the Internet, it is an area that was known for prostitution. But what prostitute hitch hikes 23 miles or more back to her corner?) I don't know.
I suppose I was being a jerk for trying to listen to a book on tape instead of talking with the woman. But it was early for me and I don't usually do conversation that early if I'm getting up then (once, a long, long time ago I did conversation that early because I hadn't gone to bed yet).
Maybe it's the masquerade catching up with me: I try to do things like a nice guy, but I'm really a jerk; and this time I couldn't manage the civility to converse. But still--I think it's worse if I'd gotten some crushesque physical attraction on the woman and tried to start up some whole relationship when she just wanted a ride to Portland and not some needy new friend.
Still, I like in a general way that from time to time as I'm driving to work I bump into someone to help and then move on. I suppose it makes me feel like I'm still alive, still a participant in life and not just in the audience in the cheap seats.
But I keep looking for meaning in events, and I don't always find what I'm looking for.
I was driving in to work, leaving home about 5:40 a.m. As I reached about 4 blocks before the end of town, a woman was hitch hiking. I didn't stop, but then I thought what the hell and turned around. I was moving stuff out of the from passenger seat into the back when she came up.
She asked if I was going to Portland. I said I was going that way. She said she needed to get to 82nd and Sandy. So I said okay.
I was listening to a book on tape as she got in. She told me her name and I told her mine. Then she asked where I worked. Then I asked where she worked. I stopped talking, listening to the book. A few seconds later, she started talking again. About her car that she hadn't had in 26 days but was going to pick up a some mechanic near where I was dropping her.
Finally, I turned off the book and turned on some music. As we approached a splitting of the freeways, I asked how I should get where she wanted. She told me the exit and I followed the directions and let her off. Then I continued straight, but realized I'd have to turn around to get back to the freeway. I could see that she had walked further in the same direction as we had been driving before I let her off. But I thought she had said her mechanic was behind where she got off.
So I don't know if there really was a car she was picking up or what. (When I looked up 82nd and Sandy on the Internet, it is an area that was known for prostitution. But what prostitute hitch hikes 23 miles or more back to her corner?) I don't know.
I suppose I was being a jerk for trying to listen to a book on tape instead of talking with the woman. But it was early for me and I don't usually do conversation that early if I'm getting up then (once, a long, long time ago I did conversation that early because I hadn't gone to bed yet).
Maybe it's the masquerade catching up with me: I try to do things like a nice guy, but I'm really a jerk; and this time I couldn't manage the civility to converse. But still--I think it's worse if I'd gotten some crushesque physical attraction on the woman and tried to start up some whole relationship when she just wanted a ride to Portland and not some needy new friend.
Still, I like in a general way that from time to time as I'm driving to work I bump into someone to help and then move on. I suppose it makes me feel like I'm still alive, still a participant in life and not just in the audience in the cheap seats.
But I keep looking for meaning in events, and I don't always find what I'm looking for.