I moved here over 30 years ago and since I did a lot of hitchhiking I would pick up everyone. Several years ago that started to change. Perhaps it was the girl I picked up at central. She got in and then informed me that if I did not pay her she would go to the police and claim I had molested her. I said she was nuts. She informed me that it was dead simple. She would simply undo a couple buttons and cry convincingly and I would be arrested. I drove her right to the police station and invited her in with me. She ran off.

Perhaps it was the lady I picked up at central. She was going to the Harbour House. When I stopped at the corner to let her out she refused to get out until I drove her to the front door. I drove in to Ganges and parked while I went shopping. When I returned a half hour later she was still in my car. I went and had coffee and when I returned she was finally gone. Speaking of the Harbour House I picked up a guy across from All Saints by the Sea. Guess where he was going? When I pointed out that we could see the hotel from where we were he still demanded a ride.

A girl I picked up at the same place also demanded a ride to the hotel. Late one night in the middle of winter I was coming home. It was pounding down rain and pitch black. I barely saw someone at the side of the road with their thumb out. I stopped and picked them up. When we got going she ( at least I hope it was a she, you could not tell) informed me that I was about to rape her. She kept repeating the accusation. I stopped the car an asked her to get out, she refused. She finally got out at central. After that I decided I would no longer pick up hitchhikers in, or north of, Ganges.

Coming up Ganges hill I saw a guy hitchhiking and decided to pick him up as I thought he was probably headed to Fulford. I had to drive down to Fulford with my head out the window. I drove around for three days with all the windows open trying to get rid of the stench.

Coming out of Fulford I decided to try one more time. The gypsy attire should have warned me. For the entire ride I was treated to a diatribe about how men were the cause of all evil and by driving a car I was worse than most. I didn’t hear it all as I had my head out the window. It took another three days of driving around with all the windows open to get rid of the overwhelming stink of patchouli oil. At least it was summer this time.

Out of the many hitchhikers I have picked up over the years I can count the number who said “thanks” on the fingers of one hand. The majority just got out and slammed the door hard enough to pop my eardrums. I no longer pick up hitchhikers and neither do many of my friends who have had similar experiences.