FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

I spent about six months driving for one of those rideshare companies that sound really good when you first hear about them. After all, they make it sound so easy – just hop in your car, turn on the app, and suddenly you're making money like it's showering you from the AC vents. Of course, they rarely if ever mention the fact that you make barely enough money to cover the costs of driving your car around town (not to mention washing it and vacuuming it out every single week); you're constantly paranoid about getting bad ratings; and you quickly develop a deep, seething hatred of drunk people. I left the driving gig for greener pastures two years ago, but there are still some things about that period of my life that I'll never forget.

A lot of people asked me while I was driving them around to the baseball stadium, the concert amphitheater, the airport, or home from a late night at the clubs – what was the craziest ride I ever had? Well, six months isn't really a lot of time to accumulate a lot of horror stories. Usually I would bring up the ride where my passenger literally got to their destination, opened the car door, unbuckled, leaned forward, and let out an enormous technicolor yawn onto the street. (And I think it's the fact that she managed to do it in the street and not in the car that kept me from realizing what a bad decision this gig really was.)

But there was actually another rider, one that I haven't really talked about to anyone, that takes the crown of the most insane ride I've ever experienced, and the one the ultimately got me out of the driving business.

It was a pretty normal evening to that point. I started earlier in the afternoon, hoping to get a head start on my rounds before the sun went down and the usual Friday night migration to the dance clubs began. It was still moderately light out; the sun was threatening to meet up with the horizon but there was still a fair bit of daylight remaining. I got a ping about a quarter-mile away for a man named Nate, and it only took about a minute to arrive at the pick-up location: a local marijuana dispensary. With no one else in the car to judge, I quickly rolled my eyes at the prospect of picking up some stoner who's probably going to jump in the car, ride it two miles, and stink the cabin up with his fresh supply of ganja.

Sure enough, no sooner did I pull up to the curb that a man walked out of the shaded-glass exit. I sized him up almost immediately as one of those guys who's probably closer to 40 than 30, but still wanted to pretend he was 27. Red flannel shirt, light blue denim jeans, brown boots, and a thick, grizzled beard. Clearly going for the hipster lumberjack look, and I'll admit his features were rugged enough to pull it off.

He climbed into the backseat and gave me a warm, friendly smile. “You're Scott?" he asked.

I nodded back. “Hi there, Nate. Where are you headed?"

“Miner's Park."

I started the ride on the app, and began driving off. Well, at least this guy was making the ride worth my time. Miner's Park was a good six miles away, and could take about 20 or 30 minutes to get to, depending on how traffic cooperated. Although this late into the day, I couldn't imagine why someone would want to go there.

“So, what's going on at Miner's Park tonight?" I asked innocently. It's not like I was expecting an answer like the one he was about to give me.

“Oh, not much," he replied, grabbing one of the water bottles I had stashed in the seat pouch in front of him and taking a big swig. “I'm just going out there to watch the moon rise. Tonight's a full moon."

Of course, like an idiot, I had to know more. “Why go to Miner's Park to see it, though? Why not head to the observatory a mile down the road?"

“Uhh..." He obviously wasn't expecting a follow-up question. "I don't really want to be in a crowd. I like seeing it by myself."

I wasn't really taking the hints that he was dropping. I know nothing about pot, so I was just rationalizing that he had to think up some excuse for me to drop him off at a public park at sundown so he'd have an excuse to get baked.

“That's a real clever idea," Nate remarked, looking at the signs that I had posted on the back of the passenger seat, inviting people to check out my social media. “You get a lot of people tweeting at you, 'DryverScott'?"

“Nah, not really. I just have it up there so if there's a problem with the ride, you can let me know about it before you complain to the company."

“What the hell, I'll follow you," Nate said, pulling out his phone and tapping away at the screen. “Just in case I need a ride home in the morning." Within seconds, a notification popped up on my own phone, indicating I had a new follower: “HalfBakedNate".

“Thanks," I said back.

“No problem," he said back in a friendly voice. “Oh, and by the way – the answer is Woodrow Wilson."

I glanced back at the man in my back seat with awe and respect. The other little personal touch I liked to add to my rides was a little brainteaser that my riders could work on during the ride, which allowed me to show off my trivia brain when ninety percent of my riders were inevitably stumped. This week I was asking my riders whose portrait had been on the $100,000 bill.

“Well done!"

“So, do you do any other work besides this?"

“Not really," I replied. “Got laid off from my last job a few months ago, so I decided to give this a try while I'm waiting for another job to open up."

“You like it?"

“It's OK. I like being a bit of a lone wolf when I'm working. Not having to worry about someone looking over your shoulder and micromanaging you is something I really appreciate with this."

“A lone wolf, eh?" Nate snickered. “I'm kinda the same way about that."

“So what do you do?"

“I own that dispensary that you picked me up from," he explained.

“Really?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. “I just figured you were a customer."

“You didn't see me bringing anything out of there, though, did you?"

I shrugged. “I guess not."

“I mean, sure, I'll sample the product every once in a while just to make sure it's decent quality, but I'm not the kind of guy who's going to blaze every day. Gets in the way of making money."

“I was about to ask – is business any good?"

“Not as good as it was in Washington, but still pretty decent. I just opened up a location here and wanted to make sure they can run things OK before I head back up north. Hey, do me a favor – could you turn down the radio?"

I had the radio on the classic rock station when I had picked Nate up, but I'd already turned the volume nearly all the way down when he got in the car. I barely even noticed the music playing during the conversation, but apparently Nate was hearing it loud and clear.

“It's already pretty low, Nate, but I can turn it off if you want."

“Could you?" Nate pleaded. "That stuff starts to bother me on nights like this."

I dutifully shut off the radio, and the car was now silent save for the engine.

“Thanks, that's a lot better."

I peeked through the rear view mirror at the passenger sitting there. He looked... nervous? Definitely uncomfortable, the way he was drumming his fingers on his leg and subconsciously bouncing in his seat. Like he was late for something.

Sure enough... “So when do you think we'll get there?" Nate asked, the slightest hint of worry in his voice now.

I glanced at the GPS on my phone. “Looks like the ETA is in about 25 minutes," I replied.

Suddenly, Nate's demeanor changed. It was obvious that he had made a miscalculation somewhere. “Uhh... can you get there any faster? I need to be there in about 20."

“The route is already optimized for the quickest arrival," I explained. “Sorry, you might miss the sun going down."

“Yeah..." Nate said vacantly, looking out at both of the windows, as though he was looking for a way to escape. “I really need to get there as soon as possible. Is there anything you can do to speed this up? Just a few minutes, even?"

“Sorry, man," I said plaintively. “Traffic in this area is really bad. Especially on a Friday night. Luckily the philharmonic isn't playing tonight or else it would probably take twice as long..."

“OK, fine," Nate replied sharply. “Forget I asked."

I could tell by the look on Nate's face, however, that this wasn't “fine". I mean, sure – some people love to watch the sunset, so I guess it would be annoying to miss something like that on account of a traffic jam. But what was the big deal? There's always tomorrow.

“You sure you want to go to the park, then?" I asked. “If you're going to miss the sunset, you can just try again tomorrow night."

“No, Scott, you don't understand. I can't be in this car when night falls. I'm dead serious. You need to find a way to get to the park before the moon comes up. Run a couple red lights, cut through parking lots, whatever you gotta do. I'll pay for the traffic tickets. I don't care. I just don't want to be in here when it happens."

I just had to ask. “When what happens?"

“Just DRIVE, damn it!!"

It was at this point that I started fearing for my life. I had no way of knowing how serious his problem was, or why exactly he needed so desperately to be at a park before nightfall, or what he was planning to do there all night, or why this was such a life or death matter for him. But his sudden shift in behavior made me realize that his danger was now mine too. I thought for a minute about just jumping out of the car and running, but I'd have nowhere to go in the mess of traffic that surrounded me. Besides, I couldn't be sure that this guy – who was obviously some sort of crazed lunatic – wouldn't just grab me as I unbuckled my seat belt, pull me back into the car, and just murder me right then and there.

We didn't exchange a lot of words for the next 15 minutes or so. Every block was so choked with cars, every traffic light insufficient to let everyone through, that I didn't want to be the bearer of any more bad news. Not that Nate was interested in much conversation at this point either – most of his time was spent looking anxiously at his cell phone, grabbing another water bottle to replace the one he'd just finished off, or making the occasional hiss of frustration whenever a car slammed on their brakes in front of us or a light turned yellow before we could even consider blowing through it.

I couldn't help but look at him in the mirror every few seconds, and even though nothing appeared to be physically wrong with him at this point – at least that I could see – he was obviously in a panic. The sun was dipping into the horizon now, and Nate watched helplessly out the window as the last few moments of daylight began to fade from the sky. “How much longer??"

“About 5 minutes," I replied, not knowing if that answer was going to satisfy him.

“God dammit..." he whined, shaking his head in defeat. “I'm sorry, Scott. It's my fault. I should've asked for the ride sooner. I didn't know it would take this long."

Finally, all of the stress and apparent pain that Nate was going through began to manifest externally. Even in the dimming light, I could tell that he was in worse condition now than he'd been just moments ago. His skin had gone ghostly pale, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. His breaths became louder and more ragged, his eyes clenched tightly shut.

“Nate..." I said softly, “Are you OK, man? There's a hospital a few blocks down the road. Maybe we should-"

“NO!!" he bellowed, loud enough to make my ears ring, followed by a groan that almost sounded apologetic in tone, like he didn't mean to snap at me just now. “A hospital isn't gonna do any good. Just keep driving! I'll be OK when we get there."

“OK, OK..." I said back, returning my attention to the road. I was just a couple of blocks away from the park entrance, but traffic was still moving at a crawl. “Can you at least tell me what's going on?"

By this point, Nate was taking quick, aerobic breaths, gasping now and then as he seemed to be swallowing down a torrent of saliva. He had taken to rocking back and forth in his seat, hands grasping at the bucket seat in front of him, the motions growing more violent by the second. His was a canvas of man struggling to hold something back, or holding something in. Whatever sickness had taken a hold of him, it was getting worse and worse the more that the sun disappeared from sight. We were approaching from the east, and it wasn't until I looked out through the windshield and saw the moon – a bright, full moon – visible in the sky, that things finally clicked in my brain.

“Nate... are you...?"

Nate's eyes flung open. I honestly wasn't paying attention to his eye color when he first got in my car not a half-hour ago, but I knew that they couldn't possibly have been the sinister shade of dark yellow they had now become. Grunts and moans tumbled from his mouth, as the sensations he was feeling now had clearly graduated from discomfort to pain. I heard a click from behind me, as Nate pre-emptively undid his seat belt so he could jump out the moment we arrived. “Please..." he whimpered, in a voice far deeper than it began, “...Keep driving. I promise... I won't hurt you. Just... get me... to the park..."

The park entrance was just a block away now. All I had to do was make a left turn at the next intersection, and we'd be on park grounds. A left turn, with no arrow, on a street that nearly everybody in town used to get to one of the main suburbs at the end of the night.

Getting to the light wasn't the issue; finding an opportunity to make the turn was. My turn signal ticked impatiently as I waited for the doofus in front of me to move so I could follow him into the intersection. This jackass decided that he didn't want to do anyone behind him any favors, though, and he waited meekly behind the crosswalk for the parade of cars going the other direction to pass. I honked my horn, begging him to inch forward a little more, but he wouldn't budge. Car after car after car whooshed past us, and I could hear Nate's vocalizations deteriorate even further to more animalistic growls. I glanced at the seat beside me, the one that Nate had been bracing against for quite a while now, and saw fingernails that were thicker, yellower, and sharper than I remembered. Dark as the cabin of the car was, I still could make out the rogue hairs that had begun to sprout along the perimeter of his face, merging the hair on his head with the beard that had turned scraggly and coarse. I didn't dare look at his teeth – I don't think I would've been able to control my bladder if I did.

Instead, I looked forward again, at the dipshit who still wouldn't advance far enough to turn. I leaned on my horn again, hoping to use the sound waves alone to displace this 10-year-old Kia Rio from its spot. The light turned yellow, and I sat there as this guy used every second of it to finally make his move into the intersection and attempt a U-turn.

Because of course he was going to make a U-turn, on a busy road, on a Friday night.

I couldn't wait another two minutes for the lights to cycle again and have another chance to make my turn. Nate looked like he was moments away from tearing me and my car to shreds. As my light turned red, I swerved into the intersection myself, and watched as a brand new Range Rover skidded to a stop on my right side. He honked in anger, and I'm sure if I really wanted to stick around to see his reaction, it would've involved a couple of middle fingers. But I didn't care – I had to get Nate as deep into the park as his body would allow. I floored it as soon as I made it past the entrance gate.

“Where do you want to get out?" I asked.

The answer I got from him wasn't even remotely close to anything human-sounding, but the incredulity I heard from the snarl he gave me was pretty easy to decipher. Something along the lines of, “I don't give a shit!!"

Miner's Park had a pretty decent-sized forest in the back that I didn't think would have a lot of people there this time of night. It would take another minute to get to the other side of the park without Nate getting too feral, he could jump out and dash into the woods without being seen and without hurting anyone. “Just hold out for a little longer," I said encouragingly. “We're almost there."

I'm glad that the park was sparsely populated enough at this point that I could zoom down the main road at three times the speed limit without anyone there to discourage me. I had to slam on the brakes a few times to get past the speed bumps, which I'm sure a transforming werewolf in the backseat of a moving car probably wouldn't appreciate, but I didn't want to destroy my car either. Nate's arms had grown substantially hairier, the claws ornamenting his fingers having now turned fully black. The reflection in my mirror had become little more than a silhouette in the looming twilight, but from what I could see, he had changed as much as he possibly could without totally letting go of his humanity – and judging by the strain of his growing body against his flannel shirt, he didn't have much endurance left.

But it was at this moment that I finally reached the end of the road, and the roundabout that would allow me to turn around. I put the car in park, unlocked the doors, and shouted, “We're here! Go!! Go!! Go!!"

Nate moved so fast, I'd swear he'd practiced this sort of thing. In one fluid motion, he opened the door and spilled out onto the road beneath him. He scrambled back to his feet and trotted a few steps away from the car until it was obvious he couldn't hold the changes back any longer.

I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. Right in front of me, I saw a man undergo a process that I'd once thought was fantastically impossible. I could only imagine how his muscles, his bones, his heart and lungs were probably burning with pain as the changes overtook his human body. His clothes started ripping open, as Nate's growing frame turned his flannel shirt tore into ribbons, the knees of his blue jeans bursting open from being flexed too dramatically. I don't even know what happened to his boots – he must have kicked them off somewhere – but those brown furry paws that dug into the grass under them somehow looked to be the most powerful things on his body.

When it was all done, I looked back up Nate's newly changed form. What little clothes he had left either hung lazily on his shoulders or clung tightly to his thighs. His build was athletic without being monstrous, but the dark brown fur that covered every square inch of him took care of the “monstrous" part. And then, looking up at his face, a slender lupine muzzle that pointed out in an almost angular manner, fangs protruding from each corner of his mouth, an expression that looked like a cross between dazed and menacing. It was looking right back at me.

My driving company allows us to charge a $200 fee to any rider that causes a big enough mess in the car to require professional cleaning. At that moment, I almost made that mess on my own.

He stared at me for a few seconds. A low rumble came from deep in the wolf's chest as he sized me up – as a friend or as prey, I couldn't tell. Then, the most amazing thing happened. Nate tilted his head back, closed his eyes... and howled. A deep, soulful song that probably scared the hell out of anyone still in the park at that point. Was he thanking me for the ride? Was this an apology for putting me through the craziest five minutes of my life? Or does he do this every time when the wolf comes out of him? I didn't have a chance to ask, because the instant his howl was finished, he immediately turned tail – a feature of his I only now had a glimpse of – and dashed off into the trees.

I honestly couldn't tell you what happened for the next 12 hours of my life.

I know that I didn't take another ride for the rest of the night, which was just as well – any passengers I took at that point would probably be creeped out by their driver staring vacantly at the road before him, never saying two words to them the whole way to wherever they were going, and they would've likely complained to the company about the car smelling like wet dog. This meant no earnings for Friday night, a typically lucrative night for our line of work, and putting me behind the 8-ball in terms of paying the bills for the month. I also have a feeling I went straight to bed when I did get home, as evidenced by the growling stomach that woke me up at sunrise, a good three hours before I usually get up.

When I did finally regain consciousness, I began to wonder if the previous night had been some sort of crazy dream or hallucination. Maybe the Chipotle I had for lunch was doing a number on me or something. But as I climbed out of bed, it became clear that last night had all happened, judging by the private Twitter message that was waiting for me on my phone from a username I barely recognized who had posted just 15 minutes ago:

@HalfBakedNate: Hey Scott. LMK when you get this. I need a ride back to my hotel.

The images of what had transpired in my car the night before began to replay in my head, and a chill went up my spine. I'm sure my psyche was perfectly willing to repress the memories of driving a werewolf in mid-change to his stomping grounds for the night. But my silly little attempts to provide an entertaining ride and maybe score an odd tip now and then meant that this guy had a way to contact me. I'm pretty sure it's the only reason I didn't have a chance to completely block out those memories.

Another notification popped up a moment later.

@HalfBakedNate: I'll pay you $500

OK, so, here's the deal. If I had driven all night on Friday, I could swing about $250 easy. But that would involve carting a bunch of loud, obnoxious drunk people out of the clubs and back to their apartment buildings. They'd make me play music I hated, crack jokes that weren't funny, and one of them was bound to barf in the car. Meanwhile, here's a guy who almost literally scared the shit out of me last night, offering me twice as much money for a single ride. Sure, he might be a werewolf, and probably would've eviscerated me in three seconds if I gave him the opportunity last night, but now that the sun was up, I really couldn't afford not to take him up on the offer.

I quickly typed up a reply. Give me about 20 minutes.

Traffic was a lot calmer on an early Saturday morning than it had been on Friday night. Miner's Park was about four miles away from home, but the same streets that had been choked with cars last night were now wide open. The drive to the park was painless by comparison, and I quickly returned to the point where I had dropped Nate off the night before.

Sure enough, about a minute later, I saw Nate emerge from the woods once more. Bare-chested, sweaty, dirty, flecked with leaves, and with barely enough left of his pants to keep him decent. He looked around to be sure nobody was in the area, and quickly walked up to the front passenger door.

“You are an absolute life-saver," Nate said in a relieved voice as he climbed into the seat next to me.

I shook my head numbly. “Honestly, I could use the money."

Nate chuckled, then twisted his body to reach into the footwell below the back seat. He grunted softly in exertion, and pulled out the pair of boots that had he'd apparently left in the car. “Oh thank God," he said, inspecting them to make sure they were still intact. “I thought for a second I blew through these last night."

I put the car in drive and started to pull away. “Yeah... about that."

“I know, we can talk about it on the way. Can you swing by a Jack in the Box or something first? I didn't have anything to eat last night and I need a burger like you wouldn't believe."

As we drove to a nearby fast-food establishment, Nate began to explain his predicament.

“I'm really sorry about what happened," he said. “I'm still new to the area and I didn't realize that it would take so long to go just a few miles. I would've called for the ride half an hour earlier and made someone else close up the shop if I knew it was going to be a problem. I mean, it's not like you were in any real danger – I just knew it was going to scare the crap out of whoever drove me here."

“I thought you were going to eat me alive last night!" I confessed. “How can you be so sure that I'd be safe?"

“'Cause I've been like this since I was seven years old," Nate replied. “And I've never – not once – attacked anyone. After a while, your wolf side gets used to being in the human world and understands it's a bad idea to take swipes at people. Honestly, it looks worse than it really is. I mean, yeah – your mind does go into this really primal state, and the logic centers in your brain go into hibernation for the night, but I still understood what was happening around me. I knew you were trying to help me out. It's just hard to convince people that they're safe when you're turning into this big hairy wolf monster right in front of them."

I honestly didn't know if I could believe his spotless record, but I did at least feel bad for his predicament. “It looked painful."

“Only because I was trying to hold it back. You ever had bad Mexican food, and it feels like your stomach's having a jailbreak? It's like that – only all over. If you're in a safe place when you start changing, it's actually not bad at all. Tickles like a bitch, actually."

“So you like being a werewolf?"

“I can't complain about it," Nate replied. “Even though it meant I had to be homeschooled, I couldn't have a girlfriend, I wasn't able to go to college, or anything like that. It has its trade-offs, just like anything else. But you learn to appreciate the freedom you get once a month when you can run free in the woods, not having to worry about appointments or salaries or birthday parties or any of that shit. That's why I got into the dispensary business - if I owned my own place, I wouldn't have to worry about keeping someone else's hours, work overtime, or anything like that."

“So what happened?"

“What do you mean?"

“You know..." I said meekly. “How did you become a werewolf?"

“Oh, that? It's actually kinda funny. There was one kid in the neighborhood I grew up in who got chicken pox. Ended up giving it to everyone on my street. Turns out that he was a werewolf too, and that somehow got mixed in with the chicken pox virus."

“So, wait – every kid in the neighborhood became a werewolf because of chicken pox?"

“Yup!" Nate said, laughing at his own story. “I have no idea how it works, but it freaked all the parents out when everyone changed for the first time. We made the best of it though – living in rural Washington made it pretty easy for us to grow up as werewolves without anyone looking at us like we were dangerous. We all thought it was pretty cool that we got to have a big group sleepover once a month. But instead of sleeping, we ran around and hunted deer and rabbits."

“Did you actually eat them?"

“Of course! We're wolves, aren't we? That's what they eat. Wolves like a fresh deer the way we like a perfectly seared steak. Also, we had to eat overnight, otherwise we'd be starving in the morning."

“So I'm guessing you didn't find much to hunt last night."

“I dunno, maybe it's just because I'm not familiar with the area, but Miner's Park is pretty sorry when it comes to wildlife. Nothing but rattlesnakes and opossums all night. I've had opossum before – it's fucking gross. I'd rather eat Kibbles & Bits."

I chuckled. We had arrived at the drive-thru line and were waiting to reach the speaker box. I doubt this guy would've been so open about being a werewolf to me if last night hadn't happened. He probably would've just stepped out of my car in the final moments of the sunset, vanished into the woods, and left me scratching my head as to what he was planning on doing at the park in the middle of the night. I could tell that he was just glad to be able to speak so frankly about his situation.

“I've got a proposition for you," Nate declared. “I thought I was going to be out here for just a month while getting my dispensary location here off and running. But it's taking longer to hire everyone than I thought it would. Besides that, I need to make sure I have my suppliers lined up, and I might end up opening another location out here if sales are good enough, so it's looking like I'll be out here for another six months or so."

“Well, I don't know anything about pot, so I don't know how much help I'm going to be there."

“Oh, I don't need help with that. I just need a driver."

I gave Nate a surprised look. “Really?"

“I never learned how to drive, and mass transit around this area is horrible. I'm going to need someone to get me to the dispensary and back as long as I'm here. And then once a month I'll need a ride to the park again. Might as well ask someone who already knows why I'm going out there instead of finding another driver to potentially scare half to death."

“I dunno, man. I think last night was enough adventure to last me for a while."

“There's nothing to worry about. I didn't do anything to you last night, right?"

“Yeah, that's easy to say the morning after," I rebutted. “You're a month away from having to worry about this again. Just because you say you're a completely harmless werewolf doesn't mean something can't go wrong."

“Well, the trick is to get me to the park early enough that you don't have to worry about that. You can take off before I start changing, and you'd never have to see it. Look, I'll make it worthwhile."

I sighed quietly. I still didn't feel all the comfortable about having a werewolf in the backseat of my car – or the front seat, for that matter – so close to the moment things got hairy. But I really didn't want to spend the next year driving random strangers around town. “I really need to think about it."

Nate shrugged. “How does $600 a week sound?"

OK, maybe I didn't need to think about it that hard. That would almost match how much I made driving every week. Still, no harm in trying to using a little bit of leverage. “Make it $700 and you have a deal."

Nate laughed. “Don't push your luck, buddy. $600 out the door, no taxes. I gotta be sure you'll keep up your end of the bargain before I go any higher than that."

I chuckled, even though I was disappointed I couldn't get more out of him. The more I considered it, the more I realized how easy this money was going to be. $600 a week for what, 12 hours of work? I could live with the risks there. “Deal."

The two of us shook hands and pulled up to the window to pick up our breakfast.

I ended up being Nate's personal driver for the rest of the year. The hours were a little earlier than I was used to, and he never told me that he would be going to his dispensary nearly every day, but once I dropped him off I had the rest of the day free to pick up a few Ride of Shame passengers, crash at my place for a few hours in the afternoon, and then bring Nate back to his extended-stay hotel. As the weeks progressed, the two of us grew to be close friends, as Nate used the inside of my car as a mobile therapy session, and we spent more nights out together after work, grabbing a beer or going to a show. I still drove around other passengers when it was busy, but the steady income I was now making reduced the need to be on the road all hours of the night. I ended up leaving the driving gig about two months later, after Nate agreed to give me that $100 raise I was angling for originally.

On the afternoons where the calendar was marked, I made sure to be at the front door of his place a solid hour before sunset, just so there wouldn't be any rush to get to Miner's Park before the magic happened. Nate invited me a couple of times we were out there to come out of my car and watch him run around as a wolf. I was hesitant to join him – the prospect of watching a werewolf running wild still spooked me out a little bit - but I will admit to watching from inside the car a couple times as the change swept over Nate's form. Even as a wolf, it clearly recognized me as a friend, and would scamper playfully around the car, yipping and barking in invitation before I drove off.

I kinda wish I had taken him up on the invitation, at least once, because at the end of the year, he was heading back to Puyallup to return to his dispensaries up there. Even though he offered me a position at his business and promised to show me the ropes in the exciting world of recreational marijuana retailing, I wasn't ready to leave my life in the city, and decided instead to settle down with some more stable employment. We still keep in touch, though, and I'd definitely like to go up there and say hi when I can get a chance to take some time off.

But in the meantime, if you're living in the city, and you have a peculiar need to get to Miner's Park on the night of a full moon, give me a holler. I promise I'll have you there by moonrise.