I was driving home one wintry evening, at the end of an ordinary day at work, looking forward to the dinner my wife was preparing. Most of the time, I was deep in thought recalling the day’s matters. My home was in the suburbs and since I worked in the town centre, I had to drive through its streets to get back. It was getting dark and had just begun to rain. I stopped at a crossroad when the traffic lights turned red.

People were walking hurriedly off pavements, into nearby shops and cafeterias for shelter, and very soon the streets were deserted.

The traffic lights turned green and I resumed driving. The bright town lights began to fade in the background as I drove through the outskirts, and as usual, took a right turn that brought me onto the main road, that was a six-mile drive to my destination. By now, it was raining heavily and the windscreen wipers could barely keep up with the water, compelling me to drive at a slower speed.

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A few minutes later, I encountered a figure on the left side, crouching and holding a thumb out, as I drove past. I was unable to distinguish the sex of the person who was wearing a black, raincoat with a hood covering the face. I glanced in my rear mirror to see if there were any lights coming from other vehicles, but there none were behind me. Guilt pricked my conscience as I thought of the person who seemed to be in pain.

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Then fear followed, remembering the dangers of giving lifts to strangers. Ultimately, guilt won me over and I turned round to drive back through the same road, hoping the person would not be there.

Despite my hopes, the figure was exactly in the same place, still in crouching position, but this time, the arm with the held up thumb was swinging ferociously. I stopped the car and hooted for the person to get in. I could feel a sudden adrenalin rush and my heart beating away, rapidly. When the person opened the car door and sat down, I looked at the face and got the surprise of my life, as it was an elderly woman of about seventy. She too, seemed shocked, and then told me in a haughtily manner, that I was supposed to be a woman. My first conception was that of a demented woman. When I asked her why, she replied that those were the instructions she got.

I had just silently finished telling myself again that she was insane, when a car with blinding lights screeched to a halt behind us. Two car doors slammed shut, non-simultaneously, and the sound of running feet headed towards the passenger’s side. A man’s drenched face peered through the window and shouted, “Mrs. Brown, can you please roll down the window?” She did so, and he told her that she had got into the wrong car. He then looked at me and apologized for the incident. Subsequently, the other person, also a man, explained to me that I had driven straight into a film scene!

Being so absorbed in my thoughts, I missed the signs at the beginning of the main road that cautioned drivers about the filming event. The heavy rain had not helped either. My somewhat boring day had ended with a thrilling event.

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The Funny Incident. (2017, Sep 29). Retrieved from http://studymoose.com/the-hitchhiker-essay

The Funny Incident

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