Thursday, September 15, 2005
On the Road Again—Pie 4
I reached through the open window and gave Bonanza’s horn three long slow honks, trying to keep from sounding rude or impatient, but letting my missing hitchhiker know that I was up.
A few moments later, he came wandering back through the sagebrush, completely naked with streaks of dust in Indian war-paint patterns.
“Sorry, I had to get away from the road to do some yoga and greet the sun,” he said calmly. Naked. “Do you do yoga?”
“No,” I responded, taking another long drag on the lukewarm bottle of milk and grabbing half a dozen Oreo’s before pushing them toward him.
He said, “My name’s Joe.” “Thanks for picking me up last night.”
I grunted, told him my name out of habit and nodded toward the passenger seat.
“You might want to put something on, the vinyl gets pretty hot.”
He pulled a t-shirt and a dirty pair of jeans from his bag and climbed in.
“Toss out that pan of water so it doesn’t spill,” I said. “And don’t mind Lazarus, he mostly stays under the seat, but he may come out and nuzzle your ankles.”
Joe sat down carefully, but didn’t ask what Lazarus was. I liked that. He’d either figured it out or figured he would when the time was right.
“Where you headed?” I asked as I pulled the old VW out onto the deserted highway west.
Joe told me about the Shattered Box Ranch, which he said he thought was about 150 miles down the road. A place he’d worked before and hoped they’d take him back.