I Don't Have to Talk to You, But I Can

"Are you from around here?" - That is a question I am asked when driving around Ocean and Monmouth counties during the summer months. Ninety-nine out of one hundred passengers who ask that question are not from around here, and generally, that leads to a conversation. The topics of chat range from cursory and short to long, winding conversations that ultimately end when the destination cuts us off.

Then again, some passengers do not want to talk at all. I respect that. It is rather easy to tell when a passenger is not interested in conversation: ear pods in ear, the glow of their phone screen filling the back seat, and one-word responses are a waved flag.

I have always been a sucker for a good story, and I think of each new passenger as an avenue to understand someone else's journey through life. Cancer, gangs, wedding stories, child-rearing tales, they all have power because they were chosen to be told to a guy who drives a red Honda Accord and takes a lot of people to Newark, Philly, AC, or Trenton-Mercer airports.

Sometimes those stories reveal courage or hope or even desperation. Other times, the tales spun from the backseat are bookends to a life I only glimpse for minutes, maybe an hour depending on traffic.

Chuck Palahniuk used the term "single-serving friendships": short-lived engagements with people you are likely never going to see again.

Sometimes I end up playing the role of throw-away therapist, being told wild stories, some details of which may not be legal, with the understanding that at the end of the trip, the details leave the backseat with the rider.

The length of the ride does not correlate to the quality of the tale. One of the best stories I have been told came during a 1.3-mile trip, all of 3 minutes. The power of that story was of personal tragedy and a condensed trail to present-day success.

Stories ground us, as can silence. It all depends on how hard you listen.