Weird with a side order of creepy

At work after lunch, I escaped the climate controlled freezer of an office to go out for my usual walk.  
  • Down a sidewalk flanked by well-cut grass for 2 blocks…
  • Zag to the right for a jaywalk across a 2-lane highway…
  • and travel down a road not important enough to have a line between the lanes.  

What better way to spend a half hour!

From: lonelyplanet.org

I love walking under the tall trees, listening to insects chirp and birds sing.  I love the soft breeze as it lifts my hair, my thoughts flinging back to childhood when the scent of cut grass as I played in the summer dusk triggered the remembrance of an airplane crossing in front of a cloud covering the sunset.  So much life ahead of me, so many possibilities.  The magic of that moment filled my heart.
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That was from the days before I found out that Santa and the tooth fairy were about as real as magic.  
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A small car approached from the front and, since I was walking on the left side of the road, I moved to the edge.  A man around 50 with a long beard, long hair, and his stomach to his steering wheel veered toward me and stopped.  He might’ve looked a bit like Santa Clause had he bothered to bathe. 

From: inboxity.com

 
He asked, “Do you need a ride?”
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I said, “No, but thank you for the offer.”
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I continued walking again down the long block.
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A car came at me from the rear.  I moved to the grass. The same guy had turned his car around, and he stopped next to me.  
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Holding a dark colored cigarette in his hand, he said, “I just want you to know…I’m not looking for sex.”
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He repeated that same sentiment several times.
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 I was hanging onto the last vestiges of civility by my fingernails.
 
So I told him, “I’m (ØØ) older than dirt years old and I didn’t think you were.”
 
“If you need a ride…”
 
“I work…just up the road and go for a walk almost every day,”  I said.
 
“You look like you need a ride.”
 
At this point I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with his ability to hear the English Language.  I mean…#(%*&$% really!?! 
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I was beginning to doubt he’d lived outside the county or exposed to another language during his lifetime.  I repeated, with diction, and as nicely as possible, “It was kind of you to offer me a ride, but I don’t need one.”
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“If you need a ride…”
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It took a bit of digging into the mental crevices, dredging up images of a time in my life I’d worked very, very hard to forget; my first husband, who was sober exactly one week out of our entire year of marriage.  
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It occurred to me that this guy was drunk.
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Better to make that assumption than to give into the creep factor and run down the road screaming.
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I calmly said I didn’t need a ride and started walking the other direction, glancing back periodically to make sure he wasn’t coming around for another “conversation.” 
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Some days I just have to wonder how the human race made it out of the caves.