Picking Up Hitch Hikers

Picked up this old black guy today who was hitchhiking on south beach. It was about 10 or 11 at night. I pull over. Roll down the window; “where you headed old man?” “Where you going?” he asks me. “downtown.” “then downtown it is.” he hops in the passengers side. We’re off. I get on the freeway. Start driving fast. we say nothing. I drive faster. I'm up to 90. I look over at him. “I just lost my wife a few months back.” he says out of the blue. ‘Motherfucker,’ I think. “Lost my son a few years ago. Now I got nothing.” Felt the pain come up inside of me. I drove faster. “God man. That sucks. I lost my fiancé a few years ago.” “she died?” “Not exactly...” “Sorry to hear that.” I drove faster. I'm doing over a hundred miles an hour now. “God man. That just really sucks.” “Your fiancé?” he asks. “No man, about your wife and kid. Man that's just so sad. How are you about it?” I look over at him. he has this glazed look on his face. “I'm o.k. I figure I'm doing as good as you can be doing.” “yeah I guess so.” “You can drive faster if you want to. I don't mind. Boy this is a nice car you got here. whatch you do? if you don't mind me asking.” “Me? I'm a singer.” I reply. “That's nice. you're a singer...” “Well actually, I'm a self-absorbed, self-congratulating, stoned-out, sex-crazed, linguistically-challenged singer... if you read the press.” “My my my. You all that? That's nice...” ‘that's nice?! I think.... ‘what is this guy crazy?’ “My son, he was a football player.” “Oh really? That's cool man. How’d he die if you don't mind me asking?” “Leukemia. Just came up one day and got him.” “goddamn man. You just never know huh...” “No. you just never know...” 

I pushed the pedal down. I hit 120. I put both hands on the wheel. “Man we’re driving fast...” he comments. “You don't mind?” I ask him. “You want me to slow down?” I look over. “What if I told you I don't care whatch you do?” he asks me quietly. “I’d understand.” “what if I told you I wouldn’t care.....” he stops mid sentence. “yeah me either man.” I sigh, and just face the road. There hasn’t been a day in months that I haven't fantasized about dying in some way or another, I'm thinking. and here I am with some guy I don't even know who feels the same way... mother fucker. The last thing I need is an excuse to pull the plug. I pictured us crashing into a wall. Just going up in flames and a huge explosion. All the pain and the agony and the frustration gone forever. all of it over. I pushed the pedal down further. I had never hit 130 but I was willing to try for it. hovering just below 130... “you're a young man still... you got a lot to live for.” He tells me. the car is on the edge. The slightest wrong move and we are fucking eleven o'clock news. “yeah I know. I keep telling myself that man. I keep saying that to myself man. I keep fucking saying that to myself man every day but...” I'm screaming... “but it don't work like that sometimes, right?” “Right.” I say despondently. A soft “yeah” Is all he gets out. I hit 130. I'm weaving around the slower drivers when I have to. there was a moment there where I was just waiting for it. just waiting. Any minute. And it could happen. it could all be over. For both of us. For me and the sad old black man. Eternal freedom. We roll in this baby at a hundred and thirty and we are free from all of it forever.

Every night we fall asleep and kill another day off. We wake up and tell ourselves today’s gonna be different. Today we’re gonna make more money. today we’re gonna get some good news. today we’re gonna get that contract. Today we’re gonna meet that special someone.... Instead, today I wake up to a message from Infinito that his best friends parents both just died in a train wreck and the kid isn't older than 23 years. And instead this old black man lost the only two people he ever loved within a few years. and now he’s alone. wandering the streets of Miami. lost. Aimless. No structure. No nothing. I kept driving faster. My heart was racing. My skin was crawling. I was sweating like crazy. Was I the angel that would deliver this sad old man to eternal salvation? Was he an angel come down from heaven to take me with him? He just sat there. glazed over. my mind was racing. I kept the pedal down.

There’s that lady whose daughter went into a coma eighteen years ago and all their money ran out so now she has to take care of her at home, her daughter just laying there in her room, a vegetable for eighteen maddening fucking years... the story of that other lady who was driving home from work one night when some guy in another car shot her at point blank range on the highway and blinded her for life for no reason. I can’t shake the images... Those two kids who got kidnapped last month at nikki beach club in Miami, the guy beat up and the girl raped and murdered. Those fucking bastards. Queenie and her eating disorders, when she's perfectly healthy and has everything to live for but just can’t seem to find any joy in her life... And all those orphans in Africa who have lost their parents to aids. They say its like 25 million kids now without parents? Could that be true? and what are we doing about it here? man, I don't know. all we see on TV is the same faked-out paid-for and piped-in gratuitous crap. my God the fucking horror. Where are we? What is all this anyway? what is this world of pain and tragedy? What are we all doing here? is there no fucking lucky break? Is it just the same fucking grind day after day? year after year? just praying everyday that someone isn't going to die? Or that something good is going to happen...and all around us just constant suffering. Somewhere someone is always suffering. We are bombarded by the stories. And everyday we tell ourselves, ‘it won't happen to me or my family. It just can’t happen...’ but it does. Everyday. All around us. We could end this now. I could end this now for both of us. Everyone will think it was an accident.... me and the old man.

“Old man?” “yeah...” “you ready?” “Yeah...” “Me too...”