Macchars don’t wear sweaters

Keep Away Mr Hitchhiker!

Posted on: February 17, 2007

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I usually drive on when I see someone with an imploring expression and a raised thumb standing alongside the road. It is partly because of the effort required to pull over and wait for the unwanted passenger to hop on and partly because of the odd news snippet about people being robbed by hitchhikers. Also all those tales told by friends/media of pretty leggy lasses flagging you down by raising the hem of their skirt are FALSE.

But as I pass by these poor vehicle less bastards, I can’t help but feel a little guilty, as if ive let someone down, shirked a responsibility. I usually avoid their eyes, or flash an apologetic smile.

But this one day, my eyes met a pair of forlorn looking eyes (so i felt at that time) belonging to a man trying to flag down passing vehicles without much luck, something happened, I made an impulsive momentary decision, and my hand came down heavily on the brake. As I screeched to a halt on the roadside, and saw my prospective passenger walk through the cloud of dust created by my back tyre, with a peculiar gait, the horizontal movement of his hips a tad extravagant, I inwardly cursed myself for having stopped.

“Where would you like to be dropped?” I ventured.

“The sector 34 roundabout” came the answer in a condescending effeminate drawl. I heaved a sigh of relief, for that was but half a mile away.

I was consciously aware of those knees brushing my sides as he painstakingly got on. I somehow got the feeling that he wasn’t makeing full use of the back seat space as he sidled up right against me forcing me to get right onto the petrol tanker to avoid the unnecessary touch. Thankfully this didn’t last long as good sense prevailed and the seat space was judiciously utilized. All this while I convinced myself that all those lingering touches were only coincidental and I was grossly overreacting. Besides I could almost see the sector 34 roundabout and what possibly could happen in the coming 3 minutes??

We drove on in silence, me constantly on the alert for the minutest movement from my passenger. Half a minute later the same effeminate drawl “Do you know of the Elephants and Giraffes they have brought to sector-34?”. I was clueless about what he was saying but I didn’t want to further dwell on the subject and get a conversation going. “No” I said hoarsely, arresting the conversation there and then.

The last iota of doubt in my mind vanished as he sent a zillion zolts of energy through my body (in a negative way) by nonchalantly placing his hands on my love handles. My discomfiture was heightened by the fact that there was no bump or pothole on the road anywhere in sight to justify the action. The touch lingered for what seemed like an eternity as I held my breath, my heart beat almost suspended, before he took his hands away. Being a non confrontational person I didn’t want to get into any unpleasantness, and I wasn’t sure if placing your hands on someone’s tummy sides warrants a reprisal. I am not the type to get tough anyway. My only solace now was the sector 34 roundabout which seemed to have been pushed back by 10 miles.

FINALLY, the roundabout loomed up a few hundred meters ahead. With a little urgency in his tone he spoke again.

HIM : “Could you go a little out of your way and drop my at my exact destination” (effeminate drawl)

ME : “No, I am already running late for office and I must get there soon” (hoarsely)

HIM : “Its not too far away and it wont take long”

ME : “No, I am already running late for office and I must get there soon”

HIM : “Ok, can I ask you a favor of you? It’s something that’ll take just a minute”

ME : “NO, I am already running late for office and I must…………..” (Panicky)

HIM : “Could you drop me a little further down the road in the direction you are going??”

ME : “NO!!!”

With that I screeched to a halt since we had reached our destination, god bless the sector – 34 roundabout!! (Well we hadn’t quite reached it since it was still a few meters away, but that is all I could take). “Thank you” he said in his condescending tone. I couldn’t but feel unburdened as I saw his hips sway away from me. And I couldn’t help noticing his vest strap peek out from under the exceptionally stretched neck of his t shirt which reminded me of a girl’s bra strap peeking out from under her top….EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK

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