I reach over, trying to silence my stupid buzzing alarm. My hips crack as I swing my legs over the side of my bed and place my feet down on the cold cement floor of my musty bedroom. I look around, my eyes blinking away the sleep. My world comes slowly into focus. It’s time to carry out my pointless routine once again.

I slide on my old slippers that had been chewed up by Trigger the week before and shuffle down my rickety wooden steps. Each step comes with an accompanying creak, alerting Trigger that I am coming. I can hear him in the kitchen, his nails are clicking across the linoleum floor. He is probably looking for food that I don’t have, the dumb dog. I turn on the stove and fill a pot with water. As the water is boiling, I open the scratched cupboard and grab a cinnamon pop tart. The pop tart is old and slightly crushed, matching everything else in my house. I put the pop tart into the toaster, which is rusty and barely works after over 10 years of overuse, and begin making my coffee.

Once I finish my bland, boring breakfast, I clip Trigger to his leash and head outside into the chilled November air like it was just an ordinary day.

“Come on Trigger, it’s time to go for an adventure.”

With my coffee in one hand and the leash in the other, I head out of my broken screen door, not even bothering to lock it behind me. As usual, my decrepit red truck is parked outside my dismal house. I unlock the door and let Trigger in before sliding into the driver’s seat. It’s time to leave.

It takes me a little while to get the truck started, but soon I find myself driving down route 95. There isn’t a car in sight, probably because it is too early for any sane person to wake up. An old concrete building comes up on my left. Even from inside my car, I can hear the distressed barking from inside. “Okay Trigger, are you ready for your next adventure?” I ask him. He barks in reply, his tongue flopping outside of his mouth. If only he knew that this was the last time we would see each other. I get out of my truck, and Trigger reluctantly follows. His nose twitches, and he starts to shake. I enter the dingy building. A groggy-eyed woman sits behind the desk, filing her nails and chewing a piece of gum.

“Hello, how may I help you?” She says in a bored voice. She blows a bubble and continues to chew obnoxiously.

I look down at Trigger. “I am here to drop off a dog, his name is Trigger, and he’s seven.”

The lady groans and reaches for his leash. “I’ll take him. I hope you don’t want to see him again.”

Trigger’s gazes up at me, his eyes are wide, and he looks terrified. The lady pulls him away. I hear the sound of a metal cage being opened and closed. I turn to leave, hearing Trigger’s dejected bark from the other room. I keep walking out the door. My eyes scan the depressing, cracked pavement. I slide back into my car. Well, that’s that. I pull out of the parking lot and continue towards the end of my journey.

As I drive, the sun starts to rise in front of me. The rays of light are getting in my eyes,  making it almost impossible to see. Not a single car joins me on the road. It’s just me, driving all alone. The minutes tick by. My mind is consumed by the sounds of Allen Clare’s monotone voice as he talks on his early morning radio show, and the constant banging of the engine. As I drive, the usually bright green signs fade, each one older than the next. Finally, I see the exit I need. “Exit 103B To Everton”.

As I drive through the exit, I can’t help but realize the weight of what I am about to do. My wrinkled, bony hands are shaking a little bit on the steering wheel. I look at myself in the mirror. My gray hair is rapidly thinning, and what used to be my bright blue eyes are now clouded over. I see another sign, a navy one this time, pointing to my destination: Everton Cliff. Under the label, a little warning is written, “Hazardous Cliff Up Ahead. Falls Are Fatal.” I keep driving.

Twenty minutes later, the road changes from hard pavement to gravel. My truck struggles across the terrain. I slow my truck down and continue making my journey. The path is bumpy; uneven and full of flying rocks. The clock in my car reads 7:37 am. Trees begin to narrow the path and obstruct my view. My pace has slowed to about 15 miles per hour. When I look around, it is clear that there are no houses anywhere near the road. It is the perfect spot.

Up ahead, standing on the side of the road, I see the figure of a man. His thumb is confidently held up, asking for a ride. The man’s face is young. He has curly brown hair and green eyes. He is smiling, but I can’t imagine why. I should give him a ride… But should I? I want to reach my final destination today…. You could do it another day, Just give this man a ride... But you were completely ready this morning. The two sides of my mind battle, each fighting a losing war. I’m still nearing the hitchhiker as I come to my decision. You should pick him up, he looks just like you did when you were young. And now look at you, wasting your life away. Give this guy a chance even if you didn’t give yourself one.

I pull up beside the man and roll down my window. “Hey kid, need a ride?” I say. My voice is raspy and gruff, just like it’s always been. The man looks up. His emerald eyes scan my truck up and down, probably searching for any perceivable threats.

He hesitates before asking, “Where are you headed?”

“I was just goin’ home from work, I have the night shift,” I lie with ease.

“Mind if I tag along?” The young man seems a little less confident now that he might actually get in a car with a stranger.

“Sure thing kid, hop on in.”

He walks around my truck, making sure to memorize my license plate. I unlock the doors, and he sits down on the cracked leather passenger seat. As soon as he is situated, I begin to drive again. Where are you going to take him? You have to go to the cliff, that was your plan all along. Now you’re screwing this up just like the rest of your life.

“So, where are you from?” I ask the young traveler sitting next to me.

“I’m from California,” he replies, with only the tiniest hint of an accent. “I’ve been traveling around ever since I graduated college.”

“Really? And how’s that going for ya?”

“It’s been fun, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s crazy how many people are willing to just pick up a stranger on the street… Thanks, by the way.”

“Oh, not a problem at all,” I assure him. We keep exchanging words. He tells me all about his adventures. How he went backpacking for a month without ever taking a shower, and how once he gets back home he has a pre-pro career in baseball lined up. I just smile and nod, reminiscing about the days when I could run without my whole body aching. The sunny days when I spent all day outside, laughing with my friends. I’m still driving in the direction of the cliff, but something in the back of my mind keeps telling me to turn around.

“Excuse me sir, are you sure you know where you are headed? This doesn’t seem like a street that would lead to houses,” the man points out. I can feel him getting more anxious by the second, wondering why he decided to get into this car. I’m questioning my choices too.

“Don’t worry, I drive this route every day,” I reply. He looks out the window, observing the barren trees and the dead grass. The silence is awkward so I turn up the radio. “Do you have an end destination?” I inquire.

“Nope, not really. I’ve just been bouncing from place to place, meeting people and seeing the sights,” he answers. “I’m trying to get to all of fifty states. I’m on my 17th now.”

This kid is crazy, but I was just like him when I was his age. I always wanted to travel, and see the world, but then I just threw it all away. Now, look where I am, on my way to die. But maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Is it really too late? Is it? I stay immersed in my thoughts.

After the path narrows even more, there is a fork in the road. The road to the right leads to Everton Cliff, the other leads to another highway. What do I do? This young man has his whole life ahead of him, don’t ruin it all now… Go to the cliff. All the pain will go away if you just drive off the edge… Think about the kid, he has a minor league career lined up for him in the spring… I don’t care about the kid, I just want it all to be over. My truck swerves. The young, prosperous kid gets thrown back in his seat. Without slowing down, I guide my dependable truck to the left. Was that the right choice? You just lost one of your only opportunities… Think about it. Now you have another day to live.

I keep driving. I stay on the path as it begins to fill out again. It twists and winds around hills and colorful trees before dumping my trusty old truck back onto route 95. This time, the beautiful sun is behind us. It glitters in the bright blue sky, a reminder that there is something worth living for. The man is still sitting up next to me, unaware that he just saved my life. Crap, I have to go get Trigger. Now, I drive with a purpose. I have the purpose to transport a young hitchhiker, to give my dog a home, and most of all, the purpose to live.