“The car is broken down.”
“Going to be late; can you walk home?”
“I can walk home.”
“I’ll see you at home.”
“Keep me posted on what is going on.”
On the train on my way home already, getting messages that I would have to walk. The day was not entirely unpleasant (perhaps a bit hot), but I had been in air-conditioned places all day so I didn't mind. The train landed on time, I disembarked, and decided that I would walk to the grocery store first before heading home. Grab a few things for dinner.
I actually don’t like walking in our neighborhood, and I plotted a route to the store that would put me on the side of a road with high-moving traffic and not on a road with a particular bar I am wary of walking past. Overall, there would be good traffic, lots of people, and a minimal chance of being harassed. (Which, sadly, happens more often than it should.)
All in all the walk started off well; my P.J. Harvey was blaring, my new shoes were comfortable, and the day was getting hot enough that I felt a little sticky, but in general I was feeling upbeat and pleasant.
Then a car slowed down next to me. I ignored it, because this is generally the best thing to do when cars slow down next to me in my town.
Then I heard “Hey do you need a ride?”
Which caused me to turn, because the voice was that of a woman not a man.
I have not real issues with hitchhiking and have done my fair share of it, starting when I was 16 and going on and on. I’m more than happy to thumb a ride when I want to get somewhere if it will get me where I am going.
Granted, I wasn’t going that much further.
“Really, I’m just heading up there,” I pointed out the market, which was at this point probably only a thousand feet away.
“That’s cool, I don’t mind.”
In my mind I calculated the risks and decided this girl seems safe.
“Okay, but really, I’m just going up there.” Open door, put a foot inside.
“That’s great; I can really use the money.”
One foot in, one foot out.
“I don’t have any money,” I responded.
“Even just a few dollars.”
“Like I said, I’m going to the shop, right there, and I will use my debit card. I don’t have cash.”
“Even a buck or two?”
Three things flashed across my mind: Back out now, don’t take our your wallet in front of crazy chick, shut door.
Which I did in that order, while saying thanks but no thanks, I really don’t mind walking and I don’t have any money.
“Whatever, you bitch.”
She squealed off, covering me in a bit of road dust as she leapt forward down the road.
So much for the modern-day good Samaritan.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
“The car is broken down.”