Let me explain his appearance before I go on. There was nothing sinister about him. He merely stood there, waiting, and looked as if he'd been there for hours. He hailed me.
I stopped the car for the detour, but it seemed that he thought I had stopped for him. I panicked, saying that I was going in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go and drove quickly away from him.
When I got the car back on the road, I felt like a fool. But I just didn't want to bear his presence beside me in the car. A few hours later, I stopped by a stand to get a cup of coffee. After honking a few times, the man who owned the stand opened the door. He was cranky and told me to check another place.
Go check somewhere else!
I don't blame him. It was the middle of the night. He started to close the door, and I started to tell him about the hitchhiker out of desperation. He didn't believe me. He thought I was drunk and threatened to call the police on me. So I left. And I ran into the hitchhiker again.
By then I was in Oklahoma, the sun blaring down on the red clay. And yet, the spots of fresh rain were still on his shoulders. Without thinking, I started the car across the train tracks. Then something went wrong - the car stopped in the middle of the tracks. The train was coming closer, and the hitchhiker simply beckoned me to my death. I managed to back up and when the train passed, he was gone.