Andy was in his early twenties, when we met. It was late spring, and he’d been on the road for three days from Barstow, California. I’d found him standing on a ramp to I-70, outside Denver, with his thumb in the air. Destination: Topeka, Kansas.
“What’s in Topeka?”, I asked. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me when he said, “My dream girl.”
Well, what do you know? Love on the blacktop. He showed me a photo, on his phone. She looked to be about his age, brunette, with a round face, dark eyes and pretty smile.
They’d met online, and had been chatting via Skype for a couple of months. After a while, they’d decided that he should make the trip. Of course, they were both broke, so here he was, dirty and hungry, and happy as a fly on a cow patty; two days away from the best thing that had ever happened to him.
When we got to my exit, he got out, smiling. He was a little closer to his Dream Girl. I gave him five bucks and wished that I could be there to see that first real kiss.