[ WP ] Hitchhiker

**Kuhio Highway** 
 
 “ Let ’ s pick up the next hitchhiker, ” I say. I ’ m venturing out because I ’ ve never told him that I think picking up hitchhikers is an awesome thing to do. So many people think every hitchhiker is a potential serial killer that is going to attack you while you ’ re driving. 
 
 “ Yeah, that sounds fun, ” my husband says. I'm so happy I did n't even have to convince him. 
 
 We were driving down Kuhio Hwy from Hanalei to Poipu Beach. Kauai was the best vacation we ’ d ever had so far. We stopped in every town, looking for the authentic Hawaiian experience, hitting antique shops and small diners. We even stopped at a house off the highway where a family was selling barbeque in their front yard. 
 
 “ There ’ s one, ” he said. 
 
 “ That didn ’ t take long, ” I say and smile. 
 
 I pull over and my husband rolls down his window. “ Hop in, ” he says. He doesn ’ t bother with asking where the guy is heading. There ’ s one highway in Kauai and we ’ re heading his direction. 
 
 We do the first bits of small talk - Hi. How you doing? Where you heading? – before we go into asking about the guy ’ s life and what brought him to Kauai in the first place. 
 
 “ It ’ s a long story if you have time to hear it, ” he says. 
 
 “ We ’ ve got another hour on this road – we ’ re your audience for the next hour, ” I say. 
 
 As he talks, the hitchhiker grows more and more tired. He tells us his life story, from the start of high school through his next 40 years. He ’ s been a criminal, a fighter, a husband, a father and now a Christian missionary, selling books about Jesus. By the time we get to the end of his story, he ’ s slipping into sleep. 
 
 My husband and I are feeling more awake and refreshed with every minute we listen. After the hitchhiker curls up and falls to sleep, I look at my husband. 
 
 “ Let ’ s drop him off at a church – he ’ s a missionary, after all, ” my husband says. 
 
 We drive a few more miles until we see a small, wooden church right off of the highway. It has a shaded overhang and a bench out front. 
 
 “ This looks nice, ” I say and pull over. 
 
 My husband opens the back door of the car and shakes the missionary awake. The missionary looks at him groggily. 
 
 “ What was I saying? ” he asks. Then he looks at my husband and says, “ Hey, where am I? Umm…do I know you? ” 
 
 “ Come on, big guy, ” my husband says. “ This is your stop. ” My husband helps him out of the car and walks him over to the bench. 
 
 I can overhear the missionary saying, “ I can ’ t remember anything, right now. Did I drink? I can ’ t even remember my name. ” 
 
 My husband gives the man a few reassuring pats and walks back to the car. 
 
 “ That was very tasty, ” he says when he returns to the car. 
 
 “ Hitchhikers are the best. I ’ m so glad you agreed to pick one up. They all have such great, long stories, so many memories to eat, ” I say. 
 
 “ Yeah, it ’ s so much better than spending hours at a bar, getting little memories like appetizers, ” he says. 
 
 “ Let ’ s pick one up on our way to Waimea Canyon tomorrow. It ’ ll be nice to hike on a full stomach. ” 
 
 Yep, I love Kauai – people are so kind and open here. This vacation is going to be the best ever. 

