I was hitch hiking—not alone though. There were three of us, teenagers. We were coming home from school in our skirts. There had been a transit strike. A lot of people were picking people up. One day we got a ride to school in a limousine. It was kind of festive actually.

This man in a large car pulled over and picked us up. He insisted that we all pile in the front seat. Of course back then no one wore a seat belt. That was unheard of. And I got stuck next to him, scrunched up against this big man. I suppose he was middle aged. We were all pretty and two of us had big boobs so he got an eye full.

The trench coat should have tipped us off. But back in those days people didn’t think like that. He told us he was a traveling salesman and was from out of town. He was odd, discussing the products he sold and how well he was doing. We got in on Moravia and Belair Road, and by the time we hit Cold Spring Lane I noticed his arm was moving. He was driving with one arm and playing with himself with the other arm while he was looking at us. He had nothing on under the trench coat.

“Yuck!”

I told him right away that we wanted the next stop but he kept on cruising and said, “Don’t you girls want to go all the way?”

He was creepy and at this point we became scared. He was still playing with himself and driving and looking over at our bodies, and then, as we were coming up on Loch Raven Boulevard I noticed the light was red, so I said, “Let’s go!” and we piled out on the street, skinned our knees and scuffed our shoes. Mrs. Miller was there crossing the street and her eyes met mine. Oh I was so lucky that her and my mother had had a falling out, because I would have gotten my butt whooped.

I never hitchhiked again, I can tell you that!