On the road to somewhere he exited an old mountain town in Colorado, driving his brother’s beat up Dodge Charger. Next town to avoid would be Aspen, on his way southwest. Early afternoon and his cares in the trunk, he drove. Usually woman hitch hikers are heavy, old, or scary looking. She defied all the odds, standing for a ride, no thumbing required. He stopped.
Conversation was light, if at all. She knew the game, and she refused to reveal her inner brilliance to justify her obviously beautiful exterior. Like 1969 GTO, candy apple red, there was no need to rev the block.
Eventually though his music choices loosened the puzzle and they started to ramble. Over the road she shared stories of her life in Aspen, confirming that he would be stopping at the tinsel town now anyway. But his eyes shined for her. She was careful not to shine back, though he was in denial of this fact at the time.
As they pulled into the star haven he realized that he would stay at her place, or move on, as camping in these hotels was above his pay grade. She said OK……… OK! They stopped at a friendly place to eat and drink beers. She was an artist. She made things from clay, as in pottery. Her boyfriend was a musician. Ohhhh,uggggh.
Her place was a small reflection of herself, simple and tasteful. Now, with all their self secrets revealed, things became very light, airy, and fun. She played music and entertained him with amazing stories. He tried to reciprocate, but he was younger and less experienced in life.
Suddenly the door opened and Raphael appeared, as was bound to happen at some point. He was cool. Very cool. They spoke for a long while. Then, as their bedroom door shut, he unrolled his bag behind the couch on the floor and slept it off. When they awoke in the morning, he was gone already, leaving only a note of gratitude.
Note to self: Good people.......there are many good people.Please feel free to e-mail a comment to chasingthecenterline@gmail.com
