picking up a stranger

I admit I haven't been feeling 'well' in my head lately. Blame it on the weather. It's really terrible. I keep seeing the blue sky, and the slow stroll I had on the beach. I can actually imagine the hot sweat day and I absolutely loved it.

Two nights ago, I went straight to bed around 7pm, in my jeans, still wearing contact lenses and with the lights on. I was so KO. When I woke up in the morning, I felt really tired like I haven't had any sleeps. I need a good dose of camomile, I think.

Right this minute, I'm thinking about the Bubur Pulut Hitam at Mawar. When I was there for dinner with Kteh and Royal Jester, I had my normal koayteow goreng. As usual, the cucur udang is always on the table. At least, the meeting with them makes up for my homesickness. Tu lah, dah tua2 oso still feel homeseick.

With this new blog, I am relieved that not many people read me these days. I have less traffics and I feel that I tend to write more honest piece about my feelings of loneliness, my demented soul, the unimportant adventures and my self-inflicted pains.

Like the time when I picked up a stranger on the road side. Heh, I can picture someone raised her eyebrows already. Don't worry, I didn't bring a strange man back to my flat.

It was gloomy when I was driving back from the office on Wed, and I somehow knew that I'm going to be bored stiff driving alone for almost 3hours on the motorway. As I was leaving Newport, I saw a man holding a badly written sign 'Junct 17', but I didn't feel like stopping. 50 yards away, there was another man holding a sign to London. It was just spur of the moment. I pulled over and asked him to jump in the van.

After I did that, then I thought what the heck have I done? Have I gone mad? What if the man was a serial killer, or worst a rapist? I just got myself in the dump again. It was fairly cold, so I turned up the heater and continue driving.

To tell the truth, I was a little bit scared that this stranger might strike me anytime. I don't have money, all I had was £20. He can have it. I was edgy all the way to London, and I noticed that he was too. I guess he was a bit skeptical about my driving skills, being a woman that I am.

The van was becoming really warm and I could feel that my feet were already sweaty, but I just didn't dare turning down the heater. After he felt a bit comfortable, he rolled down the window. Though I was on my guard, I did make some conversations and found out about his personal life and things he was doing. I made a conclusion after the first half hour that he was quite alright, but that didn't stop me from having morbid imaginations. I kept playing these images that he put a knife to my throat, rumagging through my things and then shoot me in the head with his hidden gun. Urggghh... help me! I don't even have anything in the van to use as a weapon. I drove as fast as I can and didn't even stop at the services like I normally do. I just want to get this over with.

As we drove into London, I dropped him off at Northolt tube, and after some time I can breathe like normal again. I am never going to pick up a hitchiker again. This is the one and only time, I hope. But as they say, there's always first time for everything. Phew!