Akronites Autonomous
Maybe this happens in Kentucky, or West Virginia. This could be happening in the hilly rural parts of Western Pennsylvania, or it might be happening in the Appalachian Mountain’s foothills in North Carolina. On a night of a downpour, Lucia is driving through a town where the streets aren’t well lit and she’s not used to seeing hitchhikers this far east and the companionship will help keep her alert rolling through the hairpin turns in the hard rain. The hitchhiker is a crusty traveler, but Lucia feels an affinity for a young woman traveling alone. Lucia pulls her car to the shoulder and stops. The young woman hitchhiker opens the passenger side door and sinks wetly into the front seat. Lucia merges onto the road and continues driving. Wipers on the highest setting slice arches over the windshield.
Lucia asks, while exhaling cigarette smoke, “Are you lost?”
“No. My mom remarried and she mo – ”
“Just passing through? Where’re you traveling from, or, I mean, what was your point of departure?”
“I was seeing a guy, nothing serious an – ”
“Your ex? I’m sorry to hear you two broke it off.”
“Well, actu –”
“Do you like music?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like post-modern American Literature?”
“What?”
“Not for who is the funhouse fun. Not for whom is the funhouse a house. But for whom is the fun a house?”
“Maybe you can drop me off soo – ”
“Do you like Andrew Bird?”
“Who’s he?”
“He’s a good whistler. I’m a good whistler. Would you like to?”
“Maybe we can just listen to the radi – ”
“Hear? How good a whistler I am?” Lucia tries to whistle, but can’t through her hiccups of laughter.
The hitchhiker claws the armrest and sinks into the seat as if bracing for a collision.
Lucia laughs so hard while trying to whistle that spittle flings from her lower lip.