Tuesday, August 14, 2007
So I’m driving along one hot afternoon, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I see a car parked on the side of the freeway. No big deal, someone apparently has broken down. Then I notice a woman is walking several yards ahead. She is attractive, American Indian, and looked tired. So being the mediocre Samaritan that I am, I get off at the next exit and swing around onto the freeway again, thinking I’d help her out.
I pulled up behind her and touched my horn. She turned around then came walking over to my car.
“Do you need a ride?” I asked, as she came up to my window.
“Yah. Are you going to Oklahoman City?” she said.
“Yes,” I smiled, and with that, she shook her head and came around to the passenger side of my car and hopped in, clicking the seatbelt over her lap. After a moment, I realized what she’d just asked me. As I drove on I thought, ‘Why would she need to go to Oklahoman City? Here she was, about forty miles from Oklahoma City walking on the freeway. If her car is broken down, shouldn’t she try to get it going? Shouldn’t she at least do something with it?
“Did you say Oklahoma City?” I said, making sure I heard her right.
“Yah. I had a fight with my friend and I’m tryna’ get to Oklahoma City–well, Bethany really.”
“Is that not your car back there?” I say, pointing my thumb over my shouldr.
“Uh-uh,” she says, looking straight ahead.
“Oh. I thought you were broken down.”
“No. Am’na get a car, though…when I get the money. That’s why I’m going to Bethany.”
Now things are turning weird. I’m wondering if Rod Serling is standing by the roadside with a cigarette waiting to introduce me. The exit I got back onto to pick her up was around five miles behind us. The next exit was probably ten miles ahead. How in the hell did a young woman get to the spot where I saw her walking? Oh well. Hey, some of life little conundrums we will never know.
“So, what’s your name?” I say, trying to make conversation.
“Olga.”
“Hi Olga, I’m Joe.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
“So Olga. What do you do…for a living?”
“Nothing really. I’m on disability.”
Silence again.
She’s sitting with her hands in her lap, her body upright about six inches off the seatback, and still staring straight ahead. The whole time she’s been in the car, she hasn’t looked at me. All right, so figure she’s not into trivial conversation. Ok. She doesn’t want to talk, we won’t talk. I’m fine with just giving her a ride, I don’t need a Chatty Kathy.
Even better.
So on we drive. I take the I-240 junction that takes me closer to my house, but still in the south center of OKC.
A moment later, Olga unlatches her seatbelt and says, “Can you let me off right here?”
I’m taken aback, but I say, “Sure,” and start to pull over–we’re still in the middle of the highway, eighty mile an hour traffic buzzing passed. “Cuz I need to get to Oklahoma City,” says Olga, still looking at the road, not at me.
“Well, this takes us to Oklahoman City. It just goes to the south side instead of the North, and since I live in Norman, which is South of OKC, I usually take this route.”
“Oh. Okay,” she says, and re-connects her seatbelt.
Silence yet again.
A few moments pass.
Then, she releases her seatbelt again and says, “Can you let me out right here?”
“Uh…sure. If you’d like I can take you to the next exit–”
“No no, this is fine.”
“Right…here…on the freeway?” I say, a bit confused.
“Yah.”
“Okay, sure,” I say, then pull over to let her out. We’re still moving when she bolts from the car. “Have a nice life,” she says, and starts walking. I see her in my rear-view mirror and notice something odd; she’s walking in the opposite direction.
I drive away.
Was she a ‘working girl’ just looking for some cash? Was she really trying to get to OKC and got scared? I try to present myself as a harmless nice guy, but I am pretty big.
I don’t know.
I wish I could find out but I’m sure I never will. Whatever it was, being a writer, there is a freaky, macabre, maybe even horror story spinning around in my mind from this little incident, and I hope it develops into a one soon. If it does, I might post it on here so you can read it. You might enjoy knowing not only the story, but also the inspiration beneath it.
I’ll let you know.
Until then, stay away form the strange ones.
You can never tell…
