The Traveler

First came the popcorn-like sound of gravel beneath automobile tires. Darren turned to the source of the sound, only catching the glint of sun on the front windshield in the distance. He didn't look because he was expecting anyone, rather it was because for the past several hours the only sounds he heard came from his own feet on the gravel, and the wind flapping his canvas backpack. Every few miles he would take a rest, with the wind rustling the grasses, and the muted rushing air past his ears providing a sense of being alone. He would lay in the grass, eat a ration of food from his bag, and rest his legs for his next hours long hike.

A burst of dust billowed, like white waves crashing upon wading rocks, as the truck came to a stop alongside Darren. Aged with wear, the faded blue fenders betrayed the scars of hard labor.

"Hello there," the man behind the wheel called, "where are you going?"

Darren took one hesitant step towards the vehicle and peered in the open window. The driver had a friendly face, with a baseball cap covered dark hair cut trim on the sides. A colorful plaid tartan shirt collar was visible beneath a navy jacket. He couldn't have been much older than Darren's own father. "Uh, I was just headed down to Grover Springs," Darren answered.
The driver leaned closer to the passenger window, hand on the steering wheel. "Listen, I'm headed that direction, and it looks like we're going to get some rain later. I can take you as far as Mullen Creek."

Darren studied the man's features before accepting the invitation. It wasn't the first time he's accepted a ride from a stranger; he had been hitching rides for a couple months now. He introduced himself as he opened the truck's door and climbed inside.

The driver's name was Tom Harding, so Darren would learn as the truck pulled down the gravel road. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, looking straight ahead. On this trip, Darren learned how to open up to people, but he still felt awkward with small talk.

"So why Grover Springs?" Tom offered, breaking the silence.

Darren fumbled around a few words on his tongue before committing to a sentence. "It's really more of a starting point for me."

"Oh, really?" Tom seemed genuinely surprised. "It doesn't seem like too many people go to a small town like that to start a new life. Seems like most folks leave for bigger and better places."

"That's not what I meant." Darren fumbled with the straps on his backpack, now sitting in his lap.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to be funny." After a brief pause, Tom continued, "What's your goal?"

"My goal? I'm not sure I have a goal. I think I'm just waiting to see what happens."

"What do you hope will happen?"

Darren was getting a little uncomfortable with these prosecutorial questions, and it began to show. Tom backed off. More silence.

"I've lived here my whole life," Tom began again, "... well, in these parts anyway."

"It's beautiful," Darren offered.

"Life is beautiful. When I was your age, I was offered a job down in Texas managing a ranch. The salary was double what I'm making now." Tom's tone was that of a fatherly figure. "I couldn't take the job. You know why?"

Darren didn't expect Tom to wait for an answer, but after after a brief silence he said, "Um ... I don't know. Why?"

"I can't buy a new family. It doesn't matter how much money I have, it doesn't replace being close to family."

The two set silently in the cab of the truck for most of the ride. Dark clouds moved in over the rolling plains, bringing with it a light drizzle. When they came to a state route, the pair gave their farewells and Tom drove away leaving the hitchhiker directions to Grover Springs. Darren shouldered his pack and began walking. He thought to himself, Where am I going?