Midnight. Middle of the week. I'm home alone, fast asleep in my bed. My phone rings...finally waking me up after the 15th call from a number I do not recognize. I silence it, not fully aware of what's going on. Then the doorbell rings...several times. I'm startled awake and my heart starts pounding as I try to put two-and-two together. I want to curl up under the covers and ignore it...but curiosity gets the better of me. So, armed with absolutely nothing, I creep down the stairs and slowly open the front door. No one. Wait. My eyes adjust slightly to the night and I see a dark shadow standing in the middle of the street holding a cardboard sign. Common sense would say I run back into the house, lock the door, and call the cops. However, common sense doesn't work the way it should after midnight. I take a couple steps forward only to see...MAX?!?
Yes. My boyfriend, whom I was certain was thousands of miles away, had hitchhiked all the way to San Antonio to surprise me. He mentioned hitchhiking before, but I never thought he was serious about it. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's illegal. Regardless...it was the BEST surprise I could have hoped for. He spent the next few weeks here and we had many more adventures together (of which is a completely different story). However, when the time came for him to leave for Mexico, I refused to let him hitchhike. I wanted him back alive. So...he bought a car...maybe not so much to please me as much as he wanted to teach himself to be a mechanic...which is bound to happen when you pay $425.00 for a vehicle. And mechanic he did become.
And I did what any helpful, worried girlfriend would do: ate truffles.
I don't know what I should be more uneasy about...the fact that my boyfriend is a hitchhiker...or the fact that he's now driving around in a car that he calls "the 4-2-5 ride".