The golden arm hitchhiker-1

“The Golden Arm Hitchhiker”
A young man was crossing America from New York to California. He said goodbye to his mother.
“Mother, Here give me a kiss and then I’ll go.”
“I’ll come out with you to the car.”
“Oh, no, it’s raining. Stay here at the door. Hey, what’s this, dear? I thought you promised me you wouldn’t cry.”
“Oh, I know dear. I am sorry. But I do hate to see you go.”
“Oh, I’ll be back. I’ll only be on the coast three months.”
“Oh, it isn’t that. It’s just the trip, Ronald, I wish you weren’t driving.”
“Oh, Mother. There you go again. People do it every day.”
“I know. But you’ll be careful, won’t you? Promise me, you’ll be extra careful. Don’t fall asleep or drive fast or pick up any strangers on the road.”
“Oh gosh! You’d think I was still seventeen, to hear you talk.
“And call me as soon as you get to Hollywood, won’t you son?”
“Of course I will. Don’t you worry, there isn’t anything going to happen. It’s just days of perfectly simple driving on smooth, decent, civilized roads with hot dog or a hamburger stand every ten miles.”

Ronald was conscious passing Brook Bridge that morning. He saw a beautiful golden arm lady. She seemed to be waiting for a lift. There were spots of fresh rain on her shoulders. She was carrying a cheap overnight bag in one hand. She was thin with a cap pulled down over her eyes.

Ronald would have forgotten her completely except that just an hour later, while crossing over the hill. He saw her again. She was standing with one golden thumb pointing west. He couldn’t figure out how she’d got there, she probably one of those trucks had picked her up. He didn’t stop for her. Then, late at night, he saw her again. She said helloed to him on the road. But he stepped on the gas like a shot.

Ronald stopped at the next gas station.
“Yes, sir.”
“Fill’em up.”
“Certainly, sir, check your oil, sir?”
“No, thanks.”
“Nice night, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it hasn’t been raining here recently, has it?”
“Not a drop of rain all week.”
“Oh, I suppose that hasn’t done your business any harm?”
“Oh, people drive through here all kind of condition.”
“I suppose not. What about hitchhikers?”
“Hitchhikers? Here? A guy’d be a fool who started out to hitch ride on this road.”
“It’s just a technical question.”
“Oh, I see.”