I was perched on a bench at a diner somewhere
in the middle of Iowa, downing bitter coffee.
I needed to fuel for a long night of driving, as I had to make it to
Salt Lake City as soon as I reasonably could.
I smoothed my floral dress as I considered the circumstances that had
brought me to this ramshackle diner in the middle of nowhere. An unfortunate turn in my father’s health had
forced me to take time off college.
Instead of studying for finals, I was powering across the country,
hoping to make it to Salt Lake City while my father was still alive.
The diner door creaked open,
interrupting my thoughts. I swiveled around
to see a young man enter the diner and immediately request coffee. He looked drained and weary, causing me to
quickly deduce that he too was on a grueling road trip.
He introduced himself to me. His name was Sal and he was hitch hiking to
Denver to meet up with some friends, and then would make his way to San
Francisco. Against my cautious nature, I
offered this strange man a ride. I was beginning
to lose my mind in the car all alone, and I was worried that I would fall
asleep at the wheel if I did not engage in conversation. As I peeled onto the highway, we made easy
conversation. He was an excellent
listener, and soon I found myself dumping my emotional baggage on him. While I shared about my middle class
upbringing in a generic suburb near Salt Lake City, my decision to attend a far
away university despite pressure to stay near home and aid in the care of my
father’s ailing health, he revealed almost nothing about himself.
I was struck by the focus he had on
the road when we drove. He stared out
the window with a stoic, unwavering gaze.
As I snuck glances to his profile questions swirled in my mind. Who was this man? And what really motivated
him to embark on this solo journey across the nation?
When I eventually dropped him off at
a gas station in Nebraska I realized that I would never know the answers to
these questions. To me, he would always
be a mystery.
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