I want to go for a long ride with a stranger. I’ll pay for the gas, I got the whip. The stranger pays for his or her own everything else. We drive hundreds of miles to remote places we’ve never been before. This is not about sex, it’s not even about getting along or reaching any particular destination. It’s about being. It’s about having no history.
There are types of strangers I’d love to travel with, maybe because their description seems superficially so unlike me:
1. A black man between the ages of 40 and 55.
2. A Hispanic girl between the ages of 15-20.
3. A white man, exactly my age, to the day.
4. A white woman, exactly my age, to the day. I can assure you, she’s nothing like me.