The Hitch-hiker

The Hitch-hiker (El extraño de la carretera), de Lucille Fletcher, cuenta la historia de la obsesión de un viajero con un hombre que hace dedo al costado de la ruta, y a quién encuentra en varias ocasiones. Una historia de misterio y… Para saber: Buick

Adams: I'm in an auto camp on Route 66 just west of Gallup, New Mexico. If I tell it, perhaps it'll help me -- keep me from going - going crazy. I gotta tell this quickly. I'm not crazy now - I feel perfectly well, except that I'm running a slight temperature.

My name is Ronald Adams. I'm thirty-six years of age, unmarried, tall, dark with a black moustache. I drive a 1940 Buick, license number 6Y175189. I was born in Brooklyn. All this I know. I know that I'm at this moment perfectly sane, that it's not me who's gone mad -- but something else, something utterly beyond my control.

I've got to speak quickly. At any minute the link may break. This may be the last thing I ever tell on earth - the last night I ever see the stars.

Adams: Six days ago I left Brooklyn to drive to California.

Mrs. Adams: Goodbye, son. Good luck to you, my boy.

Adams: Goodbye, mother. Here, give me a kiss. Then I'll go.

Mrs. Adams: I'll come out with you to the car.

Adams: Oh, no, it's raining. Stay here at the door. Hey, what's this, tears? I thought you promised me you wouldn't cry.

Mrs. Adams: Oh, I know, dear. I - I'm sorry. But I - I do hate to see you go.

Adams: Mother, I'll be back. I'll only be on the coast three months.

Mrs. Adams: Oh, it isn't that. It's - it's just the trip. Ronald, I wish you weren't driving.

Adams: Oh, mother. There you go again. People do it every day.

Mrs. Adams: I know, but - you'll be careful, won't you? Promise me you'll be extra careful. Don't fall asleep or drive fast or pick up any strangers on the road.

Adams: Gosh, you'd think I was still seventeen, to hear you talk.

Mrs. Adams: And wire me as soon as you get to Hollywood...

Adams: Of course.

Mrs. Adams: ... won't you, son?

Adams: Of course I will! Don't you worry. There isn't anything going to happen. It's just eight days of perfectly simple driving on smooth, decent, civilized roads with a hot dog or a hamburger stand every ten miles.

Adams: I was in fine spirits. The drive ahead of me, even the loneliness, seemed like a lark. But I reckoned without him. Crossing Brooklyn Bridge that morning in the rain, I saw a man - leaning against the cables. He seemed to be waiting for a lift. There were spots of fresh rain on his shoulders. He was carrying a cheap overnight bag in one hand. He was thin, nondescript, with a cap pulled down over his eyes. I would have forgotten him completely except that just an hour later, while crossing the Pulaski Skyway over the Jersey Flats, I saw him again. At least, he looked like the same person. He was standing now with one thumb pointing west. I couldn't figure out how he'd got there, but I thought probably one of those fast trucks had picked him up, beaten me to the Skyway, and let him off. I didn't stop for him. Then, late that night -- I saw him again.

It was on the new Pennsylvania Turnpike between Harrisburg and Pittsburgh. It's two hundred and sixty-five miles long with a very high speed limit. I was just slowing down for one of the tunnels - when I saw him - standing under an arc light by the side of the road. I could see him quite distinctly - the bag, the cap - even the spots of fresh rain spattered over his shoulders. He "Hallooed" at me this time… (The Hitch-hiker, by Lucille Fletcher)

From CBS Radio: The Hitch-hiker, presented by Orson Welles:

Para saber

Buick: tiene la distinción de ser la marca más vieja, activa, de automóviles, y fue la compañía que estableció General Motors en 1908. Buick ha sido promovida como una marca premiun, sobre las marcas de GM, Chevrolet por ejemplo. Sus vehículos son también reconocidos por su fiabilidad. Los primeros dos Buick fueron fabricados en 1899 y 1900, por el ingeniero Walter Marr.

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