Coming from a tiny east coast town I had no idea what to expect in this midwestern city.The people here seemed mean, unforgiving. Omaha, yuck! It didn't take long to find out there was no way I could adapt to city living. School was just as cruel. The kids my age called me a sissy because of the way I looked. Out of all the members in my family, even my sister, I turned out looking like my mother in all the wrong ways. i'm a guy for Christ's sake. by the time I was eighteen I'd been propositioned by uncles and cousin's I had to plan my escape. I thought of how I would do it. I got it it! I'll hitchhike to California. Camp on the beach and look for work and eventually get an apartment or a peace of land. Growing up in a household with two alcoholic parents and older siblings using each other in inappropriate ways had taken its toll on my brain. I could no longer stand that toxic environment. so, on my eighteenth birthday I was gone!
it was a bit scary at first. you never knew what kind of person would pic you up. The elements combined with the sheer loneliness out there would make anyone give up. I almost did! but I just couldn't bring myself to the point of quitting. Besides, I've always been nomadic and adventurous. Along the way I met some downright scary people.
Heading south on I 25 I got picked up by an unhappy man in his late thirties I'd guess. He had overalls on and he smelled like grease. I almost went back home after my encounter with him.
Do you know what a damn seatbelt is?
Feeling a bit intimidated I fumbled for the seatbelt. Without warning he reached quickly across my lap, knocking my hand aside and tightening my seatbelt to the point of discomfort.
Acceleratorating rather quickly he began to mumble, cursing.
Damn free loading little bastard. Gotta pay there own way!
while still listening intensely, I was startled when he turned and boldly blurted out,
YOU GOT ANY GAS MONEY?
No sir. I responded meekly.
Well, ain't nothing free in this life.
You willing to work for your ride?
Yes sir. I said nervously.
It's gas, grass, or ass cause nobody rides free.
How old are you? he asked aggressively.
Eighteen Sir. I replied.
Lets look at our options. He says to me.
Number one. You have no gas!
Number two. I don't do drugs and if you've got drugs on you I'm going to beat the living shit of you.
I don't do drugs! I explained.
Number three. You don't have the type of ass I would be interested in. Close but not good enough.
Let me guess, you take after your mom don't you?
How did you know? I asked.
Cause I'm a fuckin genius! that's why.
My exit is about ten miles up the road. I got a job you can do and we'll be even.
