The rain eventually stopped, at least temporarily, and I restarted my journey. When the skies started growling at me ten miles down the road I stopped under an overpass. As the rain began, I found a comfortable spot and started writing in my journal. 

Eric, a guy on a motorcycle, pulled over to get out of the rain. He was around thirty, wearing a worn-out leather jacket, and had an unkempt beard about three inches long. He expertly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fired one up. The local mosquitoes immediately started paying attention to the only other large mammal in the vicinity. 

We talked for about half an hour as we waited for a break in the rain. During our conversation, I played the Guess-the-Job Game, and landed on a worker in one of the local refineries. (I play this only in my brain, not out loud - it could otherwise be dangerous… “NOT a hooker? oh.”)  My second guess was a guy looking for work, or “between jobs.” 

He was quite considerate in that he was one of the few people I met who had absolutely no interest in my bike trip, thus relieving me of the burden of having to hold up my side of the conversation, or even speaking. He truly only wanted to talk about Things In Eric’s World.  

Two minutes before he climbed back on his motorcycle and sped off, he looked me in the eyes, handed me his card, and earnestly said,

“If you get into ANY trouble, you just give me a call at that number.”

Huh... I guess I'd misjudged the guy. Shame on me, because apparently he really WAS interested in my wellbeing.

Only after he was speeding away did I get a chance to look at his card.

Ahhhhh….. now it all makes sense....

He was a lawyer.