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| Trying to figure out why I did what I did, I gave up and shrugged my shoulders, smiled to myself and started reading the newspaper again. I was getting bored reading the paper, so I let my eyes wander around the Truck stop. I looked over toward the road, and I noticed a young kid about 17 getting out of a truck and waving goodbye to another driver. I told myself that this kid should be in school somewhere. He was carrying a tan leather suitcase that had many dents, more than 1 I could count. Probable from kicking, sitting on it, throwing it in and out of trucks, used as a pillow, and as a chair. The handle was made of 2 strands of rope, and a piece of rope tied around the suitcase to keep it closed. There was not much leather on the suitcase as one could see inside it. His clothes were faded, holes in the knees, red tennis shoes on, flopping up and down on his feet. His hair was shoulder length, and looked like a bird nest, and flying in all directions. He just brushed it back and let it lie where it may. He started looking around as if he was looking for someone. I opened my big mouth and called him over to me, even before I realized what I had done. |
| He reminded me of another kid many years ago. I asked him if he was lost, he said “yes and no”. I never knew a question could have 2 answers. He knew where he was, but he was lost as to finding his father. He said his mother has passed away last year, and he was left alone so he decided to set out to find his dad. I asked him where he had been? He said, “ from Maine to California, Washington to Florida”. He asked if he could bum (which was right) a cigarette. Of course, I gave him one. I gave him a few dollars and told him to get something to eat, it was on me. I hope I can take this off on taxes for donations to charity. |
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| An hour had passed, and still on the first page, when I head laughter and cheers coming from the restaurant. I had to smile to myself. I looked up and the Hobo was clean shaven came out of the restaurant with his arms around the kid. The kid was smiling, tears in his eyes. They both walked over to my truck. The Hobo said, “Mister this is my kid”. He told me how he was looking for me since his mother’s death. They both said their thanks and did not know how to repay me for the things I did for them. I told them that fate had a lot to do with it. But miracles happens all the time. They said goodbye, I waved to them, wished them all the luck. Before leaving the Truck stop, I looked at the front page of the Newspaper again, and in bold letters I read, “Boy 17, looking for father”. I smiled to myself and said that miracles do happen. I started up my rig, turned on the headlights and headed down America’s Lonely Highways. |
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