while driving down an old highway,
I picked up a mysterious hitchhiker.
I asked him where he was headed,
and in a deep voice,
he told me he was going to Memphis to see his mama.
Now this hitchhiker was very polite,
always replying with a
“Yes, Sir”, or a “No, Ma’am”,
depending on the question or
how the lights of the passing cars
reflected off my eyes.
I asked him his name, and
he laughed softly to himself, and replied,
“Let’s just say it rhymes with Presley.“
Then he gave gave me a wink.
I immediately began making guesses,
But the mysterious hitchhiker only winked again
and asked me to stop making guesses.
He told me that life had taught him a valuable lesson,
which he would reveal to me,
if I was willing to listen.
I said, no, but
he began to weave a tale, anyway,
which I will relate to you now.
The mysterious hitchhiker
told me that many years ago,
he had willingly given up the august spot-light,
and the adulation of millions
for anonymity and adventure.
He traveled the world several times and again,
solving crimes, and exploring mysteries,
living for forty days in
the Pacific Northwest wilderness,
searching for Bigfoot.
At the end of his journey,
with no sightings of the mythical beast,
the hitchhiker concluded,
that maybe Bigfoot was a thing
that could only
when searching within oneself.
when the hitchhiker returned home,
he found a note from Bigfoot
“Just stopped by to say, Hello.
But then, as an afterthought,
on the back, Bigfoot mentioned that he hoped
the hitchhiker was not hiding somewhere
in the Pacific Northwest wilderness
just to avoid paying back the $40 he owed him.
This, of course, was not true, for as,
the hitchhiker had previously noted,
it was he who had been looking for him!
Unfortunately, for the hitchhiker,
Bigfoot, had taken the opportunity
to crash at the hitchhikers pad for several weeks, too,
eating all of his food,
breaking all of his chairs,
and doodling all over his personal stationary.
What was worse, Bigfoot
had run also off with his ‘old lady’.
This surprised the hitchhiker the most of all,
because he had always thought
she worshipped the ground he walked on.
And, in a way, he was right,
as she would eventually leave Bigfoot, too,
and move in with
a piece of ground.
The hitchhiker grew sullen and he
turned his attention back to
looking out the car window.
As we passed though a small town,
the hitchhiker interrupted my whistling
and asked if I could let him out
near a Ralph’s supermarket.
“I need to pick up some-thing for my mama,” he said.
I obliged, and pulled into the Ralph’s ample parking lot,
but after I had parked the car,
I suddenly realized that I was all alone.
The mysterious hitchhiker was gone!
What could it all mean?” I asked myself.
Then I noticed something on the passenger seat.
It was the hitchhikers,
Ralph’s value club card.
Had the hitchhiker been trying to teach me a lesson about savings?
It was just all too much for me to process.
I went into the store,
used his Ralph’s value club card and
saved fifty cents on paper towels,
and box of microwave sushi.
“Savings.” I said confidently,
as I walked my discounted loot up to the counter.
As I paid for my items,
the grocery checker looked at the name on the receipt
and said, “Thank you, Mr. Nestlé!”
struck a rock n roll pose,
curled my lip
“Oh, all right,” said the checker.
Exactly ten years later to the day,
I was on the same road again,
and happened to stop at old highway diner for breakfast.
There I overhead three truck drivers
talking about a
they had all individually encountered.
“Trying to get home to his mama.” Said one.
“Disappeared into thin air” said the other.
“Looking for his Ralph’s value club card,” said the third.