I hope readers will find this story interesting. This is my first attempt and I thought writing about something that actually happened would be a good way to start. I would appreciate any and all comments.
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1. Standing alone in the rain.
That's what I was doing on that miserable late summer morning somewhere in the neighborhood of Lee, Massachusetts; standing in the rain near the entrance ramp of the interstate, doing a bad job of hitchhiking. How I managed to get to this spot is a long story which is painful for me to recall even now.
The condensed version is that I was going to go out to my brother's house in Wisconsin, where I would be attending college starting in the second semester. My parents wanted me to fly out there, but I insisted on taking the bus, telling them that I loved the idea of seeing the world through the windows of a bus.
In truth the prospect of getting on a plane scared the crap out of me at that point in time, but I was too ashamed to admit it. They relented and I took the bus. I got to the first stop where I had to change buses, where I made the ridiculous decision that my backpack would be fine where it was while I ran in to the bus station men's room.
When I came back out, my backpack was gone. Along with the backpack went my bus tickets for the rest of my trip, because I thought it would be a good place to keep them in there and make sure they didn't get lost. When you're 18, you do a lot of stupid things, and this ranks up there with the best of them.
The police looked around with me for a time before concluding that I would not likely be seeing that backpack again. Refusing the offer to use the phone to call home, I decided that the best move would be to hitchhike. No way would I call home and have to explain what an idiot I was, because I'd never hear the end of that.
So with $17 or so in my pocket, I set out on my journey. Twenty four hours later I had gotten about fifty miles. I spent a less-than-comfortable night sleeping under a highway overpass and woke up with the sunrise, determined to continue on with my trek.
I guess it was almost noon when it started raining, and when it rained, it poured. I was cold and soaked to the bone. Drivers couldn't even see me in the torrential rain, and even if they could, who wanted to let someone in their car that looked like I did? My long hair was no help either, and I was beginning to think that I would have to spend what little money I had to get back home, where I would have to listen to how stupid I was for the rest of my life.
Suddenly, a car that had flown by me pulled over and began backing up along the shoulder. I ran to meet my savior, jumping into the car when we met.
"Thank you so much!" I said excitedly.
"No problem," my benefactor said. "This is no weather to be out in."
I told the driver my sad story from the beginning, and being able to unload was very cathartic to me, since if I actually got to my brother's I would not be telling anyone else this stuff for quite a while.
The man that picked me up was an elderly gentleman with thick grey hair and long, bony fingers, which was all I could see of him. I would have guessed him to be in his sixties, although ages are tough to guess when you think 30 is ancient. He looked like a businessman of some sort, and was dressed neatly yet casual.
"Well young man, I can't get you all the way to your destination, but I can take you a good part of the way."
"That's great!" I exclaimed happily, enjoying the fact that I was at least no longer in the rain. "I can give you some money for gas, mister."
"No, that's all right young fellow. Save your money. My name's Gordon. Walt Gordon."
"Oh, I'm Tim... Tim Wells, Mr. Gordon."
"Call me Walt," Mr. Gordon said. "Mr. makes me feel even older than I am."
Walt drove across New York and into Ohio that day, before finally stopping just outside of Cleveland. He pulled into a motel parking lot and drove up to the office.
"Thanks a lot for the ride," I said while I reached for the door handle.
"I was going to spend the night here before going any further," Walt said. "Can't seem to drive as long as I used to these days. If you want, you can stay here for the night before going on. We could get a bite to eat or something, if you'd like that is."
I thought about my financial situation, and did some mental calculations.
"If you're worried about money or anything, don't," Walt said. "Save your money. The room costs the same whether there's one or two people in it. It's my treat."
"Thank you," I finally said. "Look, I want you to give me your address so I can pay you back for all this."
"No need," Walt said as he got out of the car. "Maybe someday you'll be in a position to do a good turn for someone else."
2. Room 17.
Walt came back out of the office and drove the car around the side of the motel and parked in front of Room 17. Walt had a small suitcase that he brought inside with us. I, no longer burdened by such things, waddled in empty handed.
It was a pretty drab room, much like any chain motel would look like. The one thing that caught my eye was that there was only one bed, but since I had spent the previous night on concrete with pigeons, the floor still looked good to me.
"Say Timmy, you probably don't want to go out to eat looking like you do," Walt said. "Why don't I go out and get us a pizza or something?"
