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Lois Rae Carlson

During my first years of college a lot of my friends hitchhiked. We took classes at other schools in our small city, and if the buses couldn't get us there on time we "hitched." Since everyone did it, I didn't think much about it. I should have been wiser—it wasn't a very bright thing to do, I learned.

A friend was graduating at a school ninety miles away. The scheduled buses wouldn't get me there, and nobody's car was available. I was determined to go, so my thumb was up right after daybreak, the morning of the ceremony. The school was a lot farther than the couple of miles I was used to hitching, but I was sure I could handle it.

I got into the first car that stopped, but in a minute I noticed the driver was very nervous. My friendly chitchat made him worse, and he began to talk about a sexy movie that was showing in town. I said I thought it was sad that so much money was made on films that exploited people's weaknesses. The man stopped talking, and he was still restless and driving too fast.

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