"Thanks for the lift", Jerry remarked as he closed the passenger door.
"No problem. Where you headin’?"
"As far as you can take me", Jerry replied. I’m a drifter, you know. The road’s my home."
"I see", said the driver. "So, how did you ever come to this—"
"You can stop here!", interjected Jerry.
"Are you kidding? We’ve only driven about 50 feet."
"Don’t want to go too far" Jerry said. "My wife’s expecting me back by 5."
"So…uh…drifting’s only a—"
"Hobby. That’s right", Jerry said.
"You sure you don’t want a ride back?" asked the driver.
"Nope. You’ve done more than enough. Being an amateur drifter means never staying in one place too long. Never setting down roots or making close friendships. It gets too hard to say ‘goodbye’", explained Jerry as he got back out of the car.
"But what will become of you?" asked the driver.
"Who’s to say?"
"I’ll miss you, amateur drifter."
"Don’t—", Jerry interjected again.
The driver watched in the rear-view mirror as Jerry disappeared back into the colonial split-level from whence he came. A strange tinge of regret came over him as he started up the car and turned the corner. But then he realized that was from the Bean Burrito Grande he had for lunch.