But if I wouldn't if he wore a Cheevers-style goalie mask

Strange things happen to me on Tuesdays. I don't know why. I met the husband on a Tuesday and that should say a lot.

Yesterday, I was driving the kids to my daughter's violin lesson but forgot the older kids' karate outfits. I ran into the house, hopped back in the car and was just pulling out of the driveway when this 50ish guy practically throws himself on my car, knocking on my driver's side window.

Dumbass that I am, I rolled down the window.

"Where are you going?" the guy says with a voice that's just like Billy Bob Thornton in Slingblade. He wasn't threatening; instead he asked the question in the same way one would ask, "How's things?"

"Why?" I replied (see? The last vestiges of my former life in a big city).

Nonchalantly, the guy reaches in to the car and puts his wallet on the dashboard. Before I knew it, he's neatly piling all the crap I have on the passenger seat on to the middle spot in the front and sat down.

And then he tells me he needs to go to this address, about five blocks away.

Obviously, the guy was mentally special or whatever is the PC thing to say. I think I've seen him help out around the church a few times. And he really did talk like Slingblade. We chit-chatted about rain and its benefits, all the while, the guy is giving me directions and I keep mentioning, "Only because it's on the way for me." And, within about 90 seconds, he told me, "You can stop the car here" which I did. He took his wallet and left. No parting words. No tip of his toque. And he walked in front of the car to cross the road, not even looking.

"What was THAT all about?" asked the daughter.

"Beats me. But it's nothing I want to see any of you doing." Yeah I'm a good example. Seriously, he was my first hitchhiker, and probably my last, unless I'm commandeered again.

And that will probably happen on a Tuesday.