THE HITCHHIKER

--by Dan J. McDonald



The woman, some two hundred yards ahead, stuck out her thumb to indicate that she needed a ride. As I slowly began to accelerate after having been stopped at an intersection for a traffic light, a number of questions ran through my mind in rapid succession.

Should I or shouldn't I? Is she going to rob, attack, abduct or seduce me if I give her a ride, or does she just want to get somewhere? I saw as I neared that two young children were with her, and she had two filled shopping bags. "Well, what the hell?" I thought - she appears to be harmless enough. And I eased the car off the road onto the shoulder.

"Where you headed?" I asked.

"Kuhio Park Terrace."

I knew I had made a mistake, but the children were already climbing into the car, so it would have been very difficult to tell them now to get out because I wasn't going their way. So as everyone got into the car, a number of thoughts and emotions entered my mind. A primary one was fear. Knowing, however, that it would have been a major mistake to exhibit fear, I did my best to appear calm.

I recalled many tales about Kuhio Park Terrace. Tales of drugs, gangfights, muggings, people falling from high altitude lanais, all abounded. Only a couple of weeks before, a battle between groups of Hawaiians and Samoans had taken place in the Terrace, and had been front-page news.

No sooner had I gotten the car going again than the woman pulled something from one of her shopping bags. Glancing from the corner of my eye, I could see that it was a paint can. She then opened her purse and took a rag from it, on which she began to spray the paint - then she covered her nose with the rag.

"You mind if I sniff?" she asked, apparently not really caring what I would say.

"No, go ahead," I answered unwillingly, but I felt it was in my best interest at the time to allow her to continue.

For the next ten to fifteen minutes, little was said and nothing much happened. As we began to near our destination, the feeling of apprehensiveness that had remained subdued until now almost inundated me. But as I had come this far, I was determined to go on. As I turned into the roadway leading into the Terrace, the paint was starting to have an effect on me, and I was beginning to experience a sensation of dizziness. I glanced ahead, and saw several groups of teenagers and slightly older men standing around - they appeared to be just waiting for something to happen. There were from ten to twenty people in each group.

Slowly, I continued up the driveway. As I approached the apartment area, I could see the eyes of each group focus their attention on me as I passed them. After a very few very long minutes, I reached my goal - the area where I could let my passengers out and continue on my way.

I stopped, and an eternity elapsed before anything happened. Noticing that a couple of the groups of people had begun to take notice of me now, and appeared to be slowly moving in my direction, I felt it was about time I exercised a little speed. So I glanced back to the woman passenger, who had finally begun to make a gesture of reaching for her shopping bags. Eventually, she had them in her grasp and was clutching the door handle.

"Thanks for the ride, uh - uh," she said, obviously reaching for my name.

"Jim," I filled in, not wishing to give any indication of my true identity.

"Well, Jim, would you like to come in for awhile and have a drink - or maybe spend the night?"

"I'd like to, and I appreciate your offer, but I have some important business to attend to tonight. Thanks anyway."

Without further words, she and her children exited the car, and walked toward the apartments. A very simple sequence, but one which took place in slow motion. Finally, they were a safe distance from the car, and I began easing out the driveway. This part of the drive was without incident, and I breathed much more easily. I pulled back out onto the main roadway. It would be some time before I helped another woman in distress.



AFTERWORD: This essay was written as an English assignment while I was attending the University of Hawaii in 1973. A grade of A - was awarded for the essay. There were a few red-letter editing notes but only one of any real significance. With reference to the woman pulling out the paint can, spraying the rag and asking if she could sniff, the instructor commented, "This seems unreal but I accept it as fact here." In reviewing this almost 30 years later, what strikes me is the instructor's naivete with regard to the drug culture at that time.
The instructor's final comment was, "This is unusually well told, and I actually have almost no suggestions to make, as you see. I admit to a certain incredulity - it seems like a sick cliche somehow - but I accept it as fact, as this was the assignment. Your use of suspense is very good indeed."
Again, I felt at the time and still feel that this instructor was incredibly naive with regard to the particular culture of which the hitchhiker was a part. I certainly did have the ability to embellish the tale and make it much more dramatic and interesting, but I felt no need to do so because the actual experience was strong enough to stand on its own. The exchange about spending the night - the offer and the polite declination - were very much a part of what would have been expected in this setting. To me, it would have been much more surprising if this had not occurred.
While I liked and appreciated this particular instructor, I felt I spoke from a much more accurate and comprehending view of this whole episode than she was capable of doing. Although I was never a part of the drug culture, I did interact with people in that culture on a frequent basis. I felt in this case I was the one educating the instructor, and hoped that she wouldn't be writing notes in the future which might lead people to believe the 1950s family sitcoms were pictures of reality.