It had started snowing on our way to town. By the time we headed back out, the snow was beginning to look pretty serious, with the temperature dropping, and the wind increasing. As we hit the highway, we saw a lone man, coated with snow, standing on the side of the road with his thumb out. We stopped.
Hitchhiker got in, and thanking us, said he’d been on the road since morning, headed for his home in Denver. Q explained where we would be turning off the main road, and Hitchhiker suggested that he’d get out there, and then either catch another ride or find a motel. Bad plan-no motel and no traffic. It was either stay with us or death by snow.
I wasn’t really nervous about taking a stranger into our home. I figured he was probably too tired to kill us, and we didn’t have anything worth stealing, except maybe the car. So I devised a plan to foil his attempt at grand theft auto by removing the keys from the ignition, which is usually where we kept them, and taking them to bed with me.
Good plan but stupid premise. When we got home, the snow was so deep in the driveway to our house, that Q could drive only about ten feet until so much snow collected under and around the car that it would come to a halt. Q and Hitchhiker would get out and shovel so we could move another ten feet. If Hitchhiker could manage to get our car back up the driveway by himself, I’d sign the title over.
At the house, after a shower and scrambled eggs, Hitchhiker fell asleep on the sofa. Tomorrow we would take him back to town to catch a Greyhound.
Next morning, it was still snowing. It snowed for the next three days. And no snowplow. Hitchhiker paid his rent by entertaining us with stories of his days as a mercenary in Vietnam, rescuing POW’s and MIA’s.
This is my entry in this weekend’s Trifextra. http:trifectawritingchallenge.com