"God! Am I ever glad to be out of Albuquerque!" the young man muttered to himself as he seated himself on the side of the road facing the way he had come and leaned back against his backpack, eyes searching the road all the way to the horizon, already thinking of his next ride. He was only 15 miles or so outside of town but he had a feeling as though he had escaped and was free once again. Two thirty last night his ride had left him at the junction of two major highways, the truck turning north, he continuing east. Even at that hour it was a fairly busy onramp and he had felt confident that it wouldn't take long to flag down a ride and be on his way again. All that was before the prowl car had pulled up beside him, blinding him with it's powerful searchlight, feeling like a wild animal paralyzed by the lights of an oncoming car. The blue and white car inched forward onto the shoulder and the bar of flashing blue and white lights on the roof came to life, adding to his feeling of guilt, and not knowing why he should feel so. With the lights and the flashing it was impossible to see into the interior of the car and he sensed other cars on the access road slowing as they passed, pale faces in the windows staring at him as they wondered just what crime this obvious vagrant had committed. The man had started to approach the car when an authoritative voice from behind the lights had said "Stay where you are, hands in sight." After what had seemed like 10 minutes both doors opened and he could sense the officers standing just out of the path of bright light. "You got any I.D. kid?" came the voice from the darkness. "Sure." he answered, vainly attempting to shield his eyes with one hand and see the face of his questioner. "It's right here." He very slowly reached for his wallet, wondering if there was a gun pointed at him from out there. He took his California driver's license and held it out where it was claimed by a hand that appeared in the glare, then withdrew. He heard one of them reenter the car and then a new voice asked "Where ya headed?" "New Jersey." "You live there?" "No, I live in L.A. Going to New Jersey to stay with a friend for a while." "Got any money on you?" "Yes, Sir." he answered opening his wallet to show the bills. "What's that?" asked the officer with renewed interest. "What's what?" "That card there in your wallet." "Oh, that! That's my Navy I.D. card." "You in the Navy? Gotcher leave papers?" "No. I mean yes, sorta! I'm in the Naval Reserves. I was released from 2 years active duty last month and I'm on standby reserve for the next four years." "You'd better let me have that too." Again the exchange with the disembodied hand and the warning "You stand right there!" Carefully remaining where he was, afraid even to scratch, he saw the silhouette of the second officer move to the window of the car and heard the mumble of their voices. The officer returned and said "You sure you're not A.W.O.L?" "No, Sir. I've been released from active duty." "OK, open up your pack and start removing everything and set it in front of you, one piece at a time. No sudden moves." When he had finished he was seated in the patch of light surrounded by underwear and socks and T shirts and jeans, bedroll and canteen , harmonica and shaving kit. "Now empty your pockets." As he did so he heard the first officer return and say "Checks out OK, nuthin on him here or in California and he's not listed A.W.O.L. or deserter." With that news they both seemed to lose interest in him and stepped into the ring of light to hand him his I.D.'s. "You know it's illegal to hitchhike in the state of New Mexico?" His jaw fell open. "What am I supposed to do, walk all the way out of the state?" "I don't care what you do, just don't be here when we come back by." Dismissing him, they got back into their car, turned off the spotlight and left, leaving him sitting in the darkness surrounded by his belongings. Mumbling to himself, he felt around in the dark and stuffed his gear back into his pack. The sun was just starting to lighten the eastern horizon as he started walking toward town, hoping to find the bus depot. A battered pickup truck slowed next to him and a middle aged man in greasy overalls rolled down the window and asked "Which way you headed, Son?" And so he had gotten his ride out of town without having to put his thumb out. The driver had even gone several miles out of his way to leave the young man on the side of a busier highway that was headed east. Turning down an offer for breakfast at the diner, he waved good bye to his newfound friend and found that he had to alter his impression of the natives in this part of the country. It was a beautiful, clear morning and the sun was just clearing the distant mountains as he turned his face to the west and put his thumb out. * * * * * Stopping for the young man was obviously an afterthought as she streaked past him seated at the side of the road, then sharply braked and swerved to the shoulder several hundred yards beyond, tooting her horn. He jumped up, grabbed his pack and started trotting toward the car. As he neared, she got out and came around to open the trunk for his pack. She was somewhere around his age, not bad looking at all. Congratulating himself for his good fortune he slung his bag into the trunk and smiled, "Hi." "Hi, how far you goin?" "New Jersey ... you?" "Kansas City." She removed her keys from the trunk and looked him over and said, " Do you drive?" "Yeah." "Good!" she said as she tossed the keys at him and walked around to the passenger side. He was just opening the drivers side door when they both noticed a boy in his mid-teens running up from beyond where they were parked. "Boy, am I glad you stopped!" he said as he opened the rear door and climbed in. "I was afraid I was never going to get a ride!" He looked over at the girl, she looked at him, then shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "Where you headed?" He asked, taking control of the situation and addressing their unwanted guest. "Maryland." He glanced at the girl and she rolled her eyes. For some reason she didn't want to deal with it and, since the young man was now in the drivers seat, he found himself in charge. There was an obvious chemistry between the girl and the young man. As he drove and they talked and learned about each other she slid across the seat to his side. The only fly in the ointment was the kid in the back seat. As much as they would try to ignore him he would keep inserting himself into their conversation. Why couldn't he get the hints they were giving him and realize that he was a fifth wheel, an unwanted passenger in their little single's bar on wheels? She was a college student at Southern Cal on her way home for the spring break. In all of her words and actions she gave the impression that she was just as pleased to have him in her car as he was to be there. In the early afternoon they pulled into a station for gas and rest rooms. The girl paid for the fuel with one of Daddy's credit cards without even a hint that her two passengers chip in. She was waiting outside of the door as the young man emerged from the restroom and handed him a Coke whispering, "Is he still in there?" "Yeah, he's on the crapper." "Good! C'mon!" With that she grabbed his arm and hurried him out to where the car was standing at the gas island. "Gimme the keys, quick!" He handed over the car keys and she attacked the trunk lock, dropping the keys in her haste. "Damn!! Help me get this open, will ya?" He retrieved the keys and opened the trunk. "Where is it?" she cried, rummaging through the cluttered trunk. "Where's what?" "His bag! The one he had when he got into the car!" "He threw it in the back seat. What's the matter?" "Right!" she yelled, slamming the trunk and dragging him around the side of the car. "Here it is!" she cried, grabbing the bag and tossing it beside a display of oil cans and windshield wiper blades. "Alright, let's get going .... FAST!" She opened the driver's side door and physically dragged him in after her behind the wheel. "Hurry! Hurry!" She rose to her knees in the seat and looked back towards the restrooms. "I don't see him yet. Let's move!" He started the car and nearly ran a stationwagon off the road entering the highway. As the angry blaring of the horn faded behind them, he searched the rear view mirror and thought he saw a figure standing by the pumps, hands on hips. * * * * * "I'll leave you at the park while I go set it up." she said to the young man. "It won't take long, I promise." He got out of the car, retrieved his pack from the trunk and, with a quick kiss she was gone. He pondered whether or not he should wait for her, and then, remembering the night before at the motel, he knew he would. "I can't take you to my parents house. Really, I just can't." she had said this morning as they lay beneath the rumpled bedclothes in a cheap motor court near the Oklahoma-Kansas border. "I know what we can do!" she said, sitting up in the bed and letting the covers fall to her waist. "You can stay with my best friends. They've been living together since we got out of high school and they have lots of room ... for both of us." The young man extended one arm from under the blanket and lightly traced his fingertip from her shoulder, along the swell of one breast, and circled the coral nipple. "What makes you think they'll welcome some stranger into their house?" "You're not 'some' stranger ... you're 'my' stranger! Besides, I've done a lot of favors for them. They owe me." "Well how about doing a favor for 'your' stranger?" he grinned, reaching for her with his other hand and pulling her on top of him. "And so I wait." he said to himself as he shouldered his backpack and surveyed the busy Kansas City park. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and the park was filled to overflowing with a wide variety of people enjoying the early spring weather. There were old men sitting at the tables by the walk, playing checkers or just soaking up the warmth of the sun into old bones that were still feeling the ravages of winter. There were blankets scattered about the new green grass with young families romping and giggling, stuffing themselves on homemade fried chicken and potato salad. There were blankets of another sort too. Young couples, wrapped in brightly colored blankets and oblivious to the rest of the world. They looked like some kind of quadra-ped tube-monsters going through their death throes in the bright sunshine. There was a playground with what seemed like hundreds of children, screaming and laughing, under the watchful eyes of their mothers. And concentrated around the fountain with it's murky pool of green water there were the flower children. Young people with torn jeans and bare feet, only a few years out of vogue by now. They were milling about or lounging on the edge of the fountain. Several were actually in the fountain, letting the dirty water spill from the top and drench them, clothes and all. There were knots of these kids surrounding musicians, singing folk songs and protests, all looking very serious about their attempt to save mankind. And there were the plastic hippies; during the week, straight laced students or businessmen; on the weekends, combing their hair straight and wearing tie-dyed shirts that they bought at the K-Mart. It was toward these children-of-the-times that the young man gravitated. It was here that he felt the best chance of being accepted. "Sunshine?" he heard from off his left elbow. "Huh?" he asked the young man with the dirty long hair and the scraggly beard that had approached him. "Yellow sunshine? Acid? You want some?" "Ah, no ... thanks." "How about some peyote? I got a whole bag of buttons I'm selling cheap?" "No, nothing, thank you." "Suit yourself, Brother. Peace." and he wandered away, peddling his wares throughout the crowd like a balloon salesman at the circus. A young girl with long straight hair came up to him and, without a word, placed a daisy in his hair over his left ear, smiled, then went on her way. All of this was a little strange to the young man. He had spent the last two years repairing radar units for his Uncle Sam and had missed out on the peak of the hippie movement. He and his Navy buddies had laughed at these flower children whenever they had seen them, feeling superior, and knowing that the long haired kids were laughing at them with their close cropped haircuts and pressed uniforms. And now, here he was, among them without the outer trappings that had always set him apart. The young man walked over to a tree near where a youth was picking at a blues progression on a battered guitar. He leaned his backpack against the base of the tree and leaned back against the pack. Listening, he nodded at the youth and smiled in appreciation. Stopping his picking for a moment, the youth asked, "You like blues?" "Love it! can you pick that same progression in the key of 'G'?" As an answer, the youth began playing in the new key and the young man dug a harmonica from his backpack. Waiting for the right moment, he joined in, playing melodic answers to the riffs the youth was playing. In time, they had collected their own little group of acolytes, singing spur-of-the-moment blues verses, or merely listening and appreciating. To the young man this was exhilarating. This was the first time he had really felt a part of a group since leaving the Navy. His high school friends had all gone their own way while he was at sea, and even his family had seemed to have changed somehow during his absence. Now here he was, still not quite fitting in with his boots and still conservative hair, being welcomed into this group of kids that had no idea of who he was or where he came from. The young man spent the entire afternoon with his newfound friends, talking and laughing, singing and playing. He shared a half of a sandwich given him by a young man with an astonishing head of frizzed-out hair and the clear, sweet voice of a choir boy. He talked of Johnson and McNamara and the Viet Nam War with a girl who couldn't even be out of high school yet, but with very positive ideas on how the country should be run. As the afternoon shadows grew longer, a chill returned to the air and the day's visitors began leaving the park, going home to start their Sunday dinners or to do that put-off-for- the-weekend homework that was due in class Monday morning. Children were corralled and herded into waiting stationwagons. Old People shuffled their way to the corner to catch the last Sunday bus downtown. Blanket-lovers moved their wrestling to warmer, more private arenas. And the flower children straggled off, in two or threes with a word of farewell or a hug for the young man as they left for their homes, or pads, or little used doorways where they would spend the night. As the sun disappeared behind the buildings of downtown, the young man found himself seated alone at his tree. He could see a few stragglers hurrying from the park by the sun's last cold light. "It seems that my new lover has decided that she can get along without me after all." he informed the empty spaces surrounding him. "Just as well. I gotta whole lot of travelling to do before I get my fill of being on my own." The young man rose and dug the denim jacket from his backpack, then, swinging the pack to one shoulder, he headed for the road that would lead him to the highway and his next ride. Ten o'clock that night found the young man near the entrance to an all night diner, collar turned against the cold wind. * * * * * The front hood (trunk lid?) of the volkswagen was missing, as was the rear window and right rear fender. The door paneling and headliner were gone and the dash was minus radio and most gauges, their nests looking like empty eye sockets in the harsh shadows cast by the headlights of passing cars. There they sat, rattling along at 50 mph, each with his sleeping bag cinched tight around his neck. The young man wore a Navy watch cap pulled down over his ears, chin and nose buried into his bag, while the car's owner wore a ski mask, Blue lips and dark eyes showing through the red wool, driving while feet and hands remained in the safety of his sleeping bag. The cold wind howled in through the dash, around the occupants, and out the rear window. * * * * * "Jesus! What have I got myself into?" thought the young man to himself. "Wanna hand me another beer? And grab one for yourself." called the driver over the blare of the radio. The young man reached over the back of the seat and opened the large ice chest that was sitting, full to the top with bottles of beer buried in crushed ice, in the middle of the rear seat. "Nah, it's still a little early for me, thanks." The driver took the empty longneck bottle from between his legs and tossed it out his window and onto the weed covered median. He took the one handed him, twisted off the cap which followed the empty, and took a long pull on the bottle. "Ahhhh! The breakfast of champions!" The young man looked around the interior of the twelve year old chevy he was riding in, more to hide his eyes from the roadside flying past at 85 miles per hour than out of curiosity. Aside from the cooler, the entire back seat was filled with clothing and possessions. "You movin' somewhere?" "Hah! Yeh, you could say that. My ol' lady threw me out last night and I'm going to Buffalo to stay with my sister and brother-in-law. Fuck her! I probably would have left soon anyway! That bitch is impossible!" he said, gesturing emphatically with one hand and spilling half of his beer in the young man's lap. "You been drivin' all night? You want me to drive for awhile so you can get some sleep?" asked the young man, desperately searching for a way to get him from behind the wheel. "Nah! I'm OK. Beer keeps me awake!" "I just hope it doesn't put 'me' to sleep ... permanently!" thought the young man as the car ran off the road onto the right shoulder and was quickly jerked back all the way across the slow lane and into the passing lane. "Well, he's not ready to sleep, and I sure the hell ain't gonna shut my eyes while he's driving." Somehow they made it through the day without winding up in a ditch or a jail cell. Four thirty that afternoon they pulled into Wheeling West Virginia, one face flushed with alcohol, the other pale white with fear. The driver pulled off of Interstate 70 and up to the office at a Holiday Inn. "You might as well stay the night ... my treat. All the rooms have two big beds and it's the same price for one or two." The young man was tempted to just jump out of the car and start running, but the thought of a big soft bed and clean sheets was too much for him. "If you're sure you don't mind?" "It's settled!" said the driver as he exited the car and walked just the least bit unsteadily into the motel office. One hour later the young man was laying on his bed, fresh from the shower, and watching television while the driver snored from the other bed, flat on his back with arms splayed. He contemplated getting dressed and going down to find somewhere to get a hamburger. Before he could decide, he was sound asleep himself. The young man awoke with a start, someone shaking his shoulder and the bedside lamp shining in his eyes. "Com'on, Buddy! Up and at em! It's ten thirty!" "We leavin' already?" asked the young man, propped up on one elbow and trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. "Ten thirty at NIGHT??" "Nah, we're going out! There's got to be some pretty girls in this town, and you and me are gonna find em! Come on! Get dressed! They ain't gonna wait all night!" "Look. I appreciate it, really. I think I'll just get some more sleep. You go on without me." "No way! You're coming with me! I'll give ya some money if that's what you're worried about." "I got money on me, that's not the problem. I just don't feel like partying, that's all. Besides, I don't have any nice clothes with me." "I talked with the desk clerk and he says there's a country and western joint just down the road that's always hoppin! Just put on your jeans and boots, grab a clean shirt, and let's go!" The young man tried to beg off for another five minutes but, in the end he found himself with a beer in his hand, seated at a long bar and watching the dancers doing the two-step around a large dance floor. The driver said, "Why, there's a couple of un-escorted young ladies over there, just waitin' for us to buy them a drink." He picked up his drink and approached two girls that were standing by the bandstand, leaving the young man to pay the bartender and follow when he could. "This is my Sweetie-pie," he said, pointing with his drink at the girl he was putting his arm around, "and that there's Darlin'. You girls can just call me Tex, and this here is my hitch-hikin' Buddy." "Hello." said the young man, feeling foolish. "My name's not really Darlin'. Tex just now named me that. Is your name really Buddy?" "Not before today, it wasn't!" the young man laughed. "Shall I just call you Darlin'?" "Might as well!" she said, giving him a warm smile. "His name wasn't Tex when I first met him, either!" said the young man, pointing. The other couple had started whispering and giggling so the young man said to Darlin', "Can I buy you a drink?" "Sure! I'd like that!" Two o'clock that morning the four of them entered the room at the motel. "Hey, hey, hey! It's party time! Who's empty?" Tex cried, holding up the bottle of bourbon they had bought just before the bar had closed. The young man looked at his half-full drink and answered "I'm fine. How about you, ahh, Darlin'?" "No more for me, thank you." "Yeah, I think I've had enough too." said the young man, setting his glass down on the combination dresser-desk-tv stand. After several minutes, the wrestling was getting pretty heavy on the other bed and the young man said to the girl, "I feel like sitting outside and looking at the stars, you wanna come?" "Yes, I'd like that very much." she said, glancing at the clothes flying from the other bed and looking relieved. They grabbed their jackets and hastily left the other two to the room. "That was getting pretty embarrassing." she said, as they settled into a couple of deck chairs beside the deserted pool. "Yeah. I don't normally think of sex as a spectator sport." A few moments later she said, raising her face to the sparkling night sky, "This is nice. There must be a thousand stars up there." "Yeah. Beautiful." said the young man, leaning back to gaze at the heavens and reaching his left hand to take hold of her right. She returned his gesture with a squeeze and together they studied the stars, pointing out the constellations they could recognize to each other. About an hour later the cold chased them back indoors. After several minutes of trying to wake the entwined couple in the other bed, they gave up. They spent the rest of the night on top of the covers of the other bed, fully clothed, her head resting peacefully on the young man's shoulder. * * * * * The young man spoke into the phone, "Well, Pal! I made it!" "Hey! I'll be damned! If it ain't my ol' Navy buddy! Where the hell are you?" "At a gas station just off the Garden State Parkway! You gonna come get me?" "The Clifton exit? I know just where you are! I'll be there in a few minutes!" "I'll be waitin'! Bye!" said the young man as he hung up the pay phone. "I've got a lot of people I want to introduce you to." he said to the young man as he drove them back to his apartment. "My girlfriend works with a girl that is dying to meet you!" "Ahh. You don't have to fix me up with anybody. I'm just here to see what this part of the country is like." protested the young man. "Hey! My girl dances in a topless joint down in Newark! You're gonna have more girls hangin' all over you than you know what to do with! But I'll give you a few pointers if you get stuck!" he leered. "Well, I guess I'm available so, 'Bring em on'!" * * * * * "Nah! You're not really leavin', are ya?" "Look! It's been a great three weeks, and I really appreciate you putting me up and showing me a good time but, time's a wastin' and I gotta be movin' on." answered the young man. "You can't leave! Just think of all of the broken hearts down at the club if you go and split now!" "Somehow I think they'll all manage to get over it." the young man chuckled to his friend. "Maybe they'll get over it ... but what about you? You can't tell me you're gonna give up all that good lovin' you've been getting!" "That's just the point! I gotta get away from here so's I can get some rest. I'm not used to all this attention!" he joked. "You gotta be crazy to leave all this!" "Look. Seriously. I'm not ready to settle down anywhere just yet. I still got an itch to see some more country, to be on my own." "OK. I guess I can understand that. It's kinda hard to get used to bein' a civilian again. I've been out a few months longer than you and I've got all that out of my system. When you finally get tired of travelin', you know you're always welcome back here." "Yeah! I know that. You're a great friend! I promise to keep in touch." "So where you headed now?" "I thought I'd travel down to Florida and see what that's like. Fort Lauderdale ought to be hoppin' this time of year." "If you wait until the week-end I can give you a lift down to Philly. I got relatives down there I could visit." "No. You've done enough for me already. If you can just give me a ride as far as the Parkway, I can make it from there." "Well, if I can't change your mind, that's the least I can do." "That would be great! Would you do me one more favor?" "Sure. Whatcha need?" "I want you to kiss all the girls good bye for me!" * * * * * The young man was surprised when the family sedan pulled to the shoulder next to where he stood just before the toll-booth to the expressway. This just didn't look like the kind of car that stopped and offered rides to total strangers. As it stopped next to him he saw the man and woman in the front seat, middle aged, with a child hunched into a corner of the rear seat. "This is some mistake!" he thought. "They're not stopping for me! Probably just want to ask directions." He approached the car when the driver lowered his window, ready to offer what little help he could give. "Where you headed?" asked the driver, friendly smile on his lips. "Ahh. Err. I'm going down to Fort Lauderdale." "Great! We're headed back to Atlanta. Right along the way for you! Hop in!" he said as he reached over his shoulder and opened the rear door. As soon as they were under way, the wife turned around in the front seat and began making conversation. "Well," he reminded himself, "some people stop for hitchhikers simply because they are nosey. They want to find out all about the hitchhiker, his life story. It's sort of my obligation to entertain them, my fare for the ride." She explained that both she and her husband had been going to college in California in the early 60's, not really so very long ago, and that now her husband had an important executive job with a company based in Atlanta. "You know, we were pretty wild back in those days, free spirits just like you kids today." She smiled knowingly at the young man, establishing some bond between them all that the young man could only guess at. "Yeah, just because we dress like the establishment," chimed in her husband, "doesn't mean that we aren't still hippies on the inside!" He looked over his shoulder to give the young man a big, conspiratorial smile. The little light went on in the young man's head. "So that's it!" his mind screamed. "I'm here merely so they can convince themselves that they're not middle aged yet, that there is still a little of the rebel left in them." The lump of child in the corner of the seat stirred from beneath it's pillow and the young man realized that it was a girl, maybe 13 years old. She took a brush from her purse and began brushing her hair, studying the young man from the corner of her eye. "You got any pot on you?" were the first words from her mouth. The young man looked in panic to the front seat, expecting the swift hand of parental discipline to save him from this situation. Instead, what he found was the girls mother looking at him intently, waiting for his answer. "Ahhh, I never carry anything when I'm hitchin'. You never know when the law is gonna start hassling you." he said, not wanting to seem square and spoil all of their expectations. "Right." answered the mother, agreeing enthusiastically. "You don't want the fuzz to bust ya just because you're carrying a little weed." She looked over at her husband and soon received a slight nod of assent from him. "We've got some hash we've been rationing during the trip." she said. "You want to share some with us?" "Jeez!" he thought. "If I tell them that I don't smoke they're gonna be real disappointed. Besides, I all but told them that I do with that stupid line about carrying pot on the road. How am I gonna get out of this one?" "Gosh! I'm so beat right now that I'm afraid if I smoked anything, I'd be out like a light for about 24 hours!" In the back of his mind, a tiny voice was singing, 'Oh, what a tangled web we weave......' The girl in the back seat gave him a sidelong glance and a cynical smile. "Riiight! Suuure!" she seemed to be saying. She chuckled beneath her breath and returned her attention to the compact she was holding, applying the gaudiest red lipstick he had ever seen to her mouth. "God!" he thought. "What has the world come to? When I was 13 the girls weren't this sophisticated! She scares the hell out of me!" In the end, he had been forced to take a few hits from the tiny pipe that was passed back to him. It wasn't as though he had never smoked before. During high school he had always joined in whenever his friends had lit up a joint. But every time he smoked, he ended up with a raging headache! Finally he had decided that it was stupid for him to keep doing something that only made him ill, just so that he would appear to be 'with it!' His friends had eventually learned that he was serious when he told them that he didn't want any, and soon stopped trying to force it on him. It didn't bother him if others smoked pot around him, he just learned that he didn't have to join in simply to be sociable. Unfortunately, strangers often look at you distrustfully if you tell them that you don't smoke yourself, but don't mind if they do. Later that night, with mother and daughter both sound asleep, the young man tried to keep up a conversation with the driver. After all, one of the duties of a hitchhiker is to talk to his ride and try to help him stay awake. Before long, the fatigue caught up with him and he dozed off, neck cramped as his head lolled against the window. He awakened to feel someone's arms around his neck, a face buried in his shoulder. As soon as he was awake enough to realize that it was the little girl, he decided that she had probably rolled over in her sleep, that she wasn't aware of what she was doing. As he was deciding how best to disengage himself and get her back to her own side of the seat, he received the shock of his life! Her lips began nibbling at his neck and her arms tightened around him! "Yipes!!" he yelped, struggling to free himself and bolting up straight in the seat. "What's the matter?" asked the driver into the rear view mirror as his daughter scrunched down and slithered back to her own side of the car. There was a road sign going by: 'SPARTANBURG 5 MILES'. "I just remembered that I've got some real goods friends that live in Spartanburg! Would you mind if I got out here. I really want to thank you for offering to take me all the way to Atlanta, but I think I'd really rather get out here and look up my friends!" "Well, if that's what you want." he said uncertainly. "You know it IS the middle of the night!" "That's all right! These are the kind of friends that I can call up and drop in on anytime!" "Ok. Where do you want out?" "There's a gas station here at this next exit. I can call them from there." They left him at the station, amid good byes and good-lucks. The daughter merely stared at him through the rear window the whole time, a very grown-up smile on her painted, 13 year-old lips! As he watched the sedan pull away and reenter the highway, he felt the tension leaving his body. "Damn! That was close!" he said to himself. "That little girl scared the shit out of me!" After eating a candy bar from the machine at the side of the station, the young man walked part-way down the onramp, sat atop the railing, and began the now-familiar vigil of searching for his next ride.
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