The classic rock blasted through the radio as the white Cadillac continued down the road.

Rose had been leaned against the window, frustrated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Traveller said, reassuringly. “It just takes practice.”

With a shake of her head and a shrug, she relaxed in her seat. “I guess driving’s just not for me.” She reached behind her seat and randomly grabbed one of the books Slater gave her and flipped to the first page.

She buried her head in the book and focused on the shaking words.

“You’re just giving up like that?”

She shrugged, not looking up from the book. “I’ve never been good with my hands.”

“So, you’re gonna be a mechanic who isn’t good with her hands, eh?” he teased.

It was at that moment that a hand caught Traveller’s attention in the distance.

A thumb had been held out to the road by a man idly roaming the grassy trail to the right. He had no bags. Even in this summer heat he wore a beanie and an incredibly over-sized winter jacket that fit him more like a large poncho, reaching down to the knees of his dirty jeans; most likely, he did this to save himself the effort of needing to carry what little clothes he had. His ripped canvas shoes scraped against the gravel as his weak, thin legs trudged ahead.

Traveller maintained speed, acting as though he hadn’t even seen the hitchhiker.

Rose happened to look up as they got closer to him. “Aren’t you going to stop?”

Hearing the engine, the hitchhiker looked back over his shoulder, seemingly too tired to bother turning his body.

The car blasted past, blowing a cloud of gravel and smoke behind him.

“Come on,” Rose complained. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. At least give him a lift somewhere with more people.”

He sternly gripped the wheel.

“What if that was me walking down that road?”

Traveller shut his eyes.

The Cadillac screeched to a sudden stop.

The hitchhiker watched ahead, bewildered, as the Cadillac screeched again, this time speeding backwards. The trunk sped towards him.

The car screeched a third time, front passenger door stopping right in front of him.

The window mechanically slid down.

Rose and the hitchhiker looked into each other’s eyes, both waiting for the other to speak, and neither seemingly able to speak first.

Traveller leaned closer to the window. “Where you headed?”

The hitchhiker pointed down the road with a shrug. “That way?”

Traveller looked back at Rose, gauging if she still wanted to commit to this decision. She had been looking up at the hitchhiker with a fascinated awe.

With a sigh, and accepting that look as Rose’s silent confirmation, he reached across to the back passenger door and pushed it open.

Other than the quiet rock song playing on the turned-down radio, the ride had become silent. Traveller focused on the road ahead, Rose awkwardly focused her attention back on the book, and the hitchhiker relaxed in the backseat. The hitchhiker brought with him the strong scent of days walking in the summer heat without a proper shower; Traveller drove with all four of the windows open now.

The hitchhiker wiped the tired sweat from his head. “Any chance we can switch to A/C?”

Looking through the rearview mirror, Traveller could see the weak desperation.

With one last breath of fresh air, Traveller blasted the old car’s air conditioning and rolled up the windows.

After a certain point, the smell became even too much for Rose to ignore. Unable to focus on the book anymore, she closed the book and turned back to face him as she spoke. “So, how long have you been on the road, uh…”

“Ash,” he said.

“Ash.”

“My entire life, basically,” he said with a shrug.

Traveller looked back through the mirror, curiously, with a raised eyebrow. Looking at Ash’s face, he couldn’t imagine that life have been much longer than fifteen years.

Seeing Rose’s confused expression, Ash continued. “My parents died when I was a baby, and I was sent to a shitty orphanage, so I escaped the first chance I got. I was just a little kid, cold and alone and afraid, so I just started walking down the road, and I haven’t stopped since.” He cleared his dry throat. “Anything to drink?”

Rose looked around in a confused panic. “No…”

“We’ll get some drinks at the next stop,” Traveller spoke up.

“Thanks.” Ash shut his eyes and relaxed with a tired smirk. The rock music continued to fill the auditory background. “Any chance we can listen to something more relaxing?”

Rose took this opportunity to excitedly switch the radio to jazz.

Ash sank into his seat. His eyes remained closed.

After some more time on the road, it was finally time to fill up for gas.

Traveller stood outside, filling the pump, while Ash and Rose were left alone together in the car. Rose felt it would be too rude to return to reading, but also felt motivated by the awkwardness of the silence to do something other than quietly sit.

“Thanks for stopping for me…” he said, eventually.

“Thank him. He’s the one behind the wheel.”

Ash chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s obvious you’re the one driving.”

The gas pump outside clicked, signaling the tank was full.

Traveller opened the driver’s door and leaned into the car. “I’m going in to pay for the gas and drinks. Any snack requests?”

Ash waved his hand. “Just water is fine.”

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Unless you’ve got some allergies or another preference, you’re getting trail mix.” Then he turned to Rose. “Anything for you?”

“Just juice.”

“What kind?”

“Whatever they got.” She stood from the car.

“I’m not picking up that much. I can carry it on my own.”

“I know that. I just gotta…” She looked at Ash out of the corner of her eye and blushed.

“What?”

She raised both her arms out to her side, insulted by his lack of subtlety. “I gotta pee! Jeez!” She made her way to the gas station. 

He opened the trunk of the car, reaching into the stuffed purple backpack as he called out to Rose without looking out. “Don’t take too long in there, eh Vi?”

Traveller caught the slip of the tongue as soon as it escaped his mouth. He shut his eyes and tightened his grip on the bag for a moment.

Having retrieved the money he needed, he slammed the trunk shut and made his way into the gas station.

After waiting in line and paying for the gas and snacks, he realized that he also had to use the bathroom. Luckily, he paid just in time to catch Rose leaving the bathroom. He stopped he and handed off the snacks to her, telling her that he’d be out in a second.

The gas station bathroom looked just about as one would expect a gas station bathroom to look: seemingly uncleanable. As Traveller stood in front of a urinal and relieved himself, he found his eyes idly reading the collage of graffiti sprawled across the stained tile walls. There had been one in specific that caught his eye, written in simple, messy, black Sharpie: Where are you going?

Stepping out of the gas station, he found that Rose had been the only thing left for him to return to.

She stood where his car had been parked. She surveyed the surroundings, quietly whispering desperate pleas to herself. The pleading stopped when she finally noticed Traveller; his face seemed to have skipped the other four stages of grief and settled into calm acceptance.

The car was gone.

The white Cadillac sped down the dirt road with quick, jerky movements, seemingly struggling to remain in its lane. Hip hop blasted through the car’s aged stereos and out the car’s open windows, which blew a fresh, freeing breeze through Ash’s long, messy hair.

“Wooo!” Ash yelled out the window at the top of his lungs, feeling the adrenaline in his veins. He laughed fully, like a child on Christmas morning.