…Look, he says, pointing at the cover, ‘Princess Diana visits Africa’. He presses the magazine into my hand and dives back into the trunk. A golf ball! he exclaims excitedly, and gives it to me. Do you play golf my dear boy? he asks…
Trying to hitch out of Malaga, Spain. The morning is cold and overcast. A light rain is falling. I trudge up the hill to the highway, drop my backpack on the roadside, and stick my thumb out. It’s slow going. Hours go by. It’s freezing.
A battered red coupe pulls up, and a smartly dressed gent with a wave of blow dried grey hair clambers out.
My dear boy, he says, you’ve been here a while.
Yes, I admit, you don’t want to be in a hurry, hitching in Spain.
No, indeed, he agrees. Where are you headed?
I’m going to Cordoba, I tell him.
Oh, it’s a shame I can’t go that way. I’m working today you see. I’m in real estate – showing a property this afternoon in Seville.
That’s OK, I smile, thanks for stopping anyway.
How can I help you? the gent asks himself, caressing his chin thoughtfully. What can I give you?
He opens the trunk of his car and rummages. He hauls out a bulging plastic bag and hefts it into my arms.
At least you will have something to read, he says, pulling a magazine out of the bag. Look, he says, pointing at the cover, ‘Princess Diana visits Africa’. He presses the magazine into my hand and dives back into the trunk. A golf ball! he exclaims excitedly, and gives it to me. Do you play golf my dear boy? he asks.
Er, no…
It’s a marvelous game, he says. You should take it up. Marvelous exercise! He pulls a Readers Digest edition of Sherlock Holmes, 2 golf clubs, a deck of cards, and a tennis racket out of the trunk, and piles them onto my arms. AHA! he says, stretching deep into the car. He straightens up and looks pleased with himself. This will bring you luck, he declares, and hands me a rusty iron horse shoe.
Well, he says, I wish I could help you more, but I must hurry off to work now dear boy. Very best of luck. He slams the trunk shut. Remember to keep it facing upward, he reminds me seriously, pointing to the horse shoe. He climbs into the coupe.
Thank you, I say, smiling.
Think nothing of it, dear boy.
I wave awkwardly as he revs away – trying not to drop the arm load of gifts.
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