Cautionary Tales From my Youth

The other day, as I was driving to work, I spotted a hitch hiker on the side of the road. I have to say that it's been a really long time since I've seen a hitch hiker. I kind of thought all those reports about serial killers and stories on "America's Most Wanted" destroyed the enterprise, but I suppose I was wrong. Anyways, my main point is that hitch hikers always remind me of my father. And, right now you're probably thinking, "How in the world could that possibly be?" Well, no, it has nothing to do with the time my father thumbed a ride to the Auburn/Alabama game when his car overheated halfway through the drive, and he didn't want to miss the first ever match-up between the two teams at Jordan-Hare Stadium. You see, back in the day (i.e. the 70s) my father used to pick up hitch hikers. Now, he has told me plenty of times that hitch hiking was much "safer" and "more acceptable" back then, but I still can't imagine anything at all fun or American-open-road-romantic about being in incredibly close quarters with a transient you just met, but bygones. So, my father used to pick up hitch hikers. Of course, that was all until one day when he picked up a particular hitch hiker who pulled out a knife about twenty minutes into the ride. Here's a little something of what the conversation was probably like: Hitch Hiker: So, you like this knife of mine? (He proceeds to sharpen said knife on the sole of his shoe.) My Father: (With obviously raised anxiety) Yeah, that's a nice knife. HH: It's a real nice knife, don't you think? MF: Uh-huh... HH: Yeah, it's a real sharp one too. MF: (Just silence and nervous gulping.) HH: It's a real good knife. MF: (Wide-eyed staring and fear.) HH: So, do you think you might want to buy this knife off me? MF: YES! Yes, I do! Let's do that right now! Obviously, this was the worst and best deal my father ever made. Financially speaking, you really don't have any bargaining power when you're the one not holding the knife, but, survival-wise, it's always better to be the one who's armed in a two-seater Volkswagen beetle. The moral of the story - don't pick up hitch hikers. Otherwise, not much has been going on over the past few days, and I've had to revert to telling my father's stories rather than my own. Hopefully, more to come...