Hitchhiker

Starting with a few plump raindrops, the clouds suddenly open, pouring rain down on you so hard the wipers can barely keep up. You slow down, not wanting to take any chances with the reduced visibility.

You've driven about a mile when you see a drenched and bedraggled figure ahead, an arm extended in the universal gesture of the hitch-hiker. Normally you wouldn't consider picking someone up, but you don't feel good about leaving anyone stranded out in this downpour. You slow down and pull over, looking in your mirror to see the figure trotting to your car.

The passenger door opens, letting in a gust of wind and and a slender young man slides into the seat, holding a small backpack in his lap. He turns and grins at you.

"Thanks so much. I didn't think anyone was going to stop, and when this rain started, I thought I was really screwed. I owe you big time."

"No problem," you answer with a smile. He's not unattractive, perhaps a couple of years older than you, with lean features decorated with a few days growth of beard. He's wearing what looks like an army surplus jacket and jeans, with some sturdy hiking boots, every bit of him drenched. Noticing him shivering, you turn up the interior heater.

"I'm Jack," he says, rubbing his hands over the warm air coming from the heater.

"Lisa," you answer.

"How far are you going?"

"I'm turning at a county road up ahead. I'm not sure how far, maybe ten miles. I don't really know the area, I'm going off some directions my friend wrote down. You tap the sheet of directions on the car seat between you. "We're going camping."

"In this weather? Wow, that's dedication," he chuckles.

"Yeah, well this wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sure it will blow over soon."

"I don't know, this looks like its planning to stay around a while," he comments, peering out at the rain.

It's at that moment that your wind-shield wipers give a little hitch, then slow dramatically from their top speed to less than half of that. At that speed they don't clear the rain at all, and your visibility drops to nearly zero. You brake and slow, pulling off to the side of the road, biting your lip with anxiety.