for only a moment i had my own albert too

I was driving south setting away the very northern part of Washington for Seattle. Leaving the tangled high hills of forest in clouds behind me, leveling down to flat stretches and clocking the speedometer way up, teasing my momentum with jolts and surges. Weaving between traffic not to get anywhere faster, just to avoid anything that would prevent me from going exactly as fast as I wanted to go. Real fast, and free. As close as I could get to flying because my mood was light. Wanted to skim quickly along the surface. The whole time keeping a good eye on everything, you have to. Nobody wants to end up twisted wreck metal and broken parts.

I saw something on the far right shoulder under an overpass and I needed to stop and pick that something up. We do not need to go into the reasons why you really should pick up a hitchhiker if you can. Just do. It was a quarter mile before I stopped with my hazards on waiting, but he did not notice or look back. In reverse I slowly crawled backwards, he did not see until the end of my car slid past him and stopped. He got inside and I pulled into traffic. He was kind, quiet, and gentle. These were easy to see. His voice told me he had seen great things and people, had wonderful stories to tell. His words were plans and dreams. So I was as delicate as possible. For an hour we guarded the others existance carefully, quietly. We crested the city, left him in the heart of a traffic rich swarming cement. Going south.