Something for after right now

I had driven about five miles with this new strange passenger. At least I assumed it was five miles. It was almost certainly less than that. I had come to notice that people are awful at estimating distance, as well as time. A full ten seconds is a long time when you're waiting for it to pass, and the relativity of the situation never fails to alter a person's guesses by a large amount. So in reality, maybe 3 miles had gone by. Maybe less. I couldn't remember when I checked the clock last, even though I just looked at it. I couldn't guess by time. Either way, it felt like a long time. It felt hot and silent, sweating from the mental exercise and my lack of cognitive endurance.

Rain blotted my windshield at such a rate that I had to manually turn on the wipers every half minute. It was just finishing up raining. In the light of my headlights I could see the shining black, slick road. Even in the darkness, the rain does this incredible thing where it brings out the true vibrancy of the colors. The yellow road lines were popping. The metal guardrails and light posts shined and shimmered and glossed, especially glossy. The asphalt was a thick and heavy black, made even more so by the white road sidelines. Other than the two small headlight beams, things were only vacantly illuminated. We passed streetlamps sparingly, driving on back roads.

I say we only because it's easier to refer to. We implies a sort of bond, in my mind, a commonality, a friendship. There was no kinship here, in fact there was nothing at all. An atypical hitchhiking, I had slowed down and offered a ride to a lonely rain wanderer. There are so many myths and tales regarding picking up passersby. I subscribe to none of them. Hesitantly they joined me and I drove on. They didn't offer a destination and I did not ask one. It would have been an awkward conversation overall. I was just out driving because I enjoy driving. Sometimes when you drive you see something that catches your eye or you drive upon a long, winding road and wish you had the time to ease down it at 20 miles an hour and just take it in and forget things. Forget where you're from or what you're doing. Forget about laws and space and travel and just view the simple sights as a tourist or a traveler, or a stranger. So I was out forgetting and they were doing who knows what. They had their hood up over their face but their long hair was hanging down. They didn't look at me. I assumed from stance it was a male but I didn't really know, or care. Me, traveling along at such a slow pace, in the rain, offering rides to the often-accused faux murderers stuck in the elements, probably conjured up some myths in their mind as well.

My car was driving subconsciously at this point. I wasn't entirely focused on the road, yet the turns were sharp and crisp, and my speed was medial and controlled. Habit forced robotics to develop traits like my own, only more quickly learned. My focus wasn't on anything in particular. I saw the dark trees and the sparse houses and the asphalt and the stars and night sky, but not really. I thought about art and life and machine, but not wholly. I was half existing and half automaton. My fingers had begun to tap a rhythm out on the reverse side of the steering wheel as I gripped it. Driving with palms and making percussion with fingers, I once again eased into a pattern my brain had constructed without my input. And this went on for a while. For a very long while.

Looking around, I started to realize again what was occurring and I shook myself wide awake. This point in time seemed like a good time to stop being rude to my guest.

"Where are you going?" I said, courteous enough.

"Wherever." Their voice revealed nothing.

"You don't have somewhere to be?"

"Don't you?"

"I suppose not." I would not let silence rule again.

"You want to get ice cream?"

"It's 2 AM." A revelation. He turned to face me. He was beautiful. He was quizzical.

"There must be a grocery store around here. Do you have a GPS on your phone?"

"I don't have a phone."

"Okay. Just use mine. I'll walk you through it."

 And I did. A little more haphazardly than I would have liked. He was slightly more inept than anticipated and I could not seem to be able to drive properly and think and talk all at once. It worked though. 8 miles away. On I drove.

I pulled into the parking lot and he went in. He offered to buy. I was positive by this point that he had no money but I was proven wrong when he came strolling out of the store with a gallon of neopolitan and 2 metal ladles. I thought it was clever but in retrospect it was just all right. Pretty clever for not knowing how to work a GPS app, though. So he walked out and I climbed out of the car and hopped up on the trunk. I patted the cold metal next to me as if to say "come sit" but eagerly. I didn't want to use words.

We sat there eating ice cream in silence for a while. I started to get full, so between gluttonous bites I would pause to make conversation.

"Where are you headed, anyway?"

"The promised land I guess."

"Thats neat. Where is it?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither. Can I come?"

"Sure."

"Can we drive there?"

"I won't pretend to know all the rules, but I'm inclined to say sure."

"All right. Go grab some sodas and snacks. I'm starving. Maybe a burrito. Whatever man, I trust you!"

He had already begun walking so I had to yell at the end. He came back with faygo and swedish fish.

"That'll do for now, you lunatic," I laughed.

As he approached I put my hand up for a high five and he slapped back. I wasn't sure he would know what I was doing. He seems modern and archaic all in one. As if a prophet accidentally time traveled to the future, but he had been around long enough before he found me that he was accustomed to us.

"You want to listen to music?"

"I want to make music," He countered. He pulled out a pan flute.  I almost absolutely lost it. This guy was a trip, I thought.

"You're a trip," having never uttered that phrase before. "Where do I go?"

"Be quiet, be still. Calm down. Return to your former self. You were doing phenomenally before. What is your name?"

"Lucas. Yours?"

"Vincent."

Rain began to pour down again. I stared out the window in the darkness, seeing less and less of my surroundings, until the only thing I could see was the road, and everything else was absent of light. My vision seemed to fade in my periphery the more I allowed it to. The rain stopped and I lowered my window. I could hear water gurgle over rocks in a river nearby. I could hear the wind push the rocks and leaves and twigs and stems. I could hear plants breathing. I could feel it calling out to me. Calling me back home. I looked over at Vincent. He smiled at me. I drove on. Focused.