Who's Sorry Now

It was hot. And the air was broke in my beat up Chevy. That's why I had the window down, sniffing the sooty diesel smoke from the truck ahead of me at the light.

Did I mention it was hot? The kind of hot that glues your shirt to your skin. The steamy Midwest late July heat when nothing ever seems to be entirely dry. I gingerly rested my arm on the griddle the sun had made of my car door, and was reminded of all the ants I had tortured with a magnifying glass during the long hot boring summers of my youth.

The truck jerked to life and began to creep towards the intersection. C'mon! Damn it! I'm never gonna get through the light, and I'll be stuck, window down, grimy and sweating, next to the bum on the corner. He stood there, with the fake sign about being a disabled vet needing a lift. The listless way he held the cardboard, amplified the ragged ensemble of torn jeans, and faded threadbare western shirt he wore. The truck inched its way through the intersection, maddeningly disregarding the red glow of the stoplight. I crept along behind it, forced to stop at the white line on the pavement.

Shit! Just don't look at him I thought. But it was just like seeing someone yawn, ya know. And you just can't help yourself. The bum waved at me, and I stared down at me crotch to avoid his eyes. Finally, I couldn't take it any more, and I waved him into my car. He immediately gathered up his well-worn backpack, and shuffled over to the passenger door of my old Chevy.

"Get in" I barked at him impatiently, wishing he'd hurry up as I eyed the light, expecting it to turn green any moment.

He slid his backpack onto the pile of old McDonald's bags and empty beer cans that littered my back seat. The bastard even looked a little disgusted at the mess.

"So, where ya goin'" I asked, trying to cover my repulsion with a Cheshire cat grin.

"All the way to San Francisco" the vet replied, settling himself a little too comfortably into the cracked vinyl seat.

"Shit man!" I laughed, "I'm just headed to Richmond Heights, that's not even ten miles up the road"!

"Well, you know what they say about the journey of a thousand miles starting with the first step..." he quipped.

I hate fucking optimists.

The light turned and I pulled through the intersection and down onto the ramp on the highway.

"So, no air in this heap, or do you just like the breeze" he asked, and I just shot him a few daggers, in leu of saying anything to incite him.

"What's in San Francisco", I asked hoping to change the subject from the state of my vehicle. After all, it beat walkin'.

"Just the Pacific I guess" he replied lookin' out the window on his side.

"No, really. Why you goin' to San Francisco" I asked again? At least the bastard owed me that.

"I've seen enough of other countries, just thought I'd have a look at my own for a while".

"Thought you were a vet? Don't you get a pension or somethin'? Or don't you especially like the bus?"

He turned to me and smiled.

"Now how else would I get to meet so many colorful people?"

Fucking smart-ass! I shoudda dropped him at the next ramp.

We rode on silently for the next couple of miles.

"So you got something against vets", he asked?

"Not in particular. Just people I guess ", I mused.

He looked at me kind a startled.

"So why'd you pick me up then", he asked with a hint of hostility.

"Maybe I need someone to bitch at", I shot back!

He just shook his head, and looked back out the window;
Silence again.

I fumbled in the ash tray for my tin of snuff. I was so pissed I spilled a bunch of it down my chin, and the bastard just watched me and laughed.

"What!" I yelled.

"It works better when taken internally", he replied calmly, still smiling.

"Would you just get off my ass", I yelled again. I'd really lost it.
'What is it with you guys. Great! you killed a bunch of Gooks, or Sand Niggers or some shit, and you think your bettern' everyone else, or we all owe you for protectin' our freedom. Fuck you! You got the free ride, so shut the fuck up man!"

He wasn't mad, he just looked at me kinda funny.

"Look buddy. I'm not looking for any trouble. Just drop me at the next exit, O.K.?"

I pulled up the next off ramp and he got out at the corner. He pulled his sign and backpack out of the back seat, and threw a crumpled twenty at me.

"Get help", he said and he walked over to the corner and set his backpack down. I just looked at the money, laying there on the seat.

'Who's sorry now!" I shouted at him as I pulled away, and I saw him point at me and wink in the rear view mirror, just before I crossed the intersection, and got back on the highway. I was at the bottom of the on ramp before I realized I was heading east, not west.

"Sonofabitch!" I swore.

"I'm headed the wrong damn way!"