I saw him from a good distance away, walking down the highway in the direction I was driving shortly after a big cloverleaf marking the intersection of two major highways. He hardly looked like an experienced hitchhiker, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Not only was hitchhiking illegal on a highway like this, but I also couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a hitchhiker on the roads at all. And I especially couldn't remember seeing one as ill equipped for hitchhiking as this one was. I couldn't tell how old he was, but he certainly looked young—barely out of high school, certainly. Not more than nineteen. He had the usual backpack, which was hanging from one of his hands, but he was shirtless, a white T-shirt hanging over his shoulder, and had on low-slung cut-off jeans. He was wearing flip flops. This hardly was gear for hiking or walking the asphalt highways. He was of medium height, and more lean than meaty, although he looked like he worked out regularly. He had long blond hair, gathered in a ponytail that went down his back. In classic hitcher style, he was pointed at me, backing down the road, with his thumb out.

As I got closer to him, I was thinking that he must not have been without a ride for long, because I don't think anyone can back down a highway for long like that and make any decent progress. As I passed him, we made eye contact, and I found myself pulling over. I have no idea why I did that; I'd never picked up a hitchhiker before in my life.

He opened the back door and tossed his bag in and then opened the front door, stuck his head in, and asked, "Can I get a lift down the road a ways? You're not exiting for the next couple of exits or anything?"

"Sure, hop in," I answered, "I've got a good long ways to go down this road." He already had his bag in my back seat, so I guess we both knew the request was only a formality. He draped his T-shirt over the seat back before he got in, which was nice of him. I like to keep my car clean, and, again, picking someone up like this was a new experience for me.

"Thanks again," he said, as he got in and buckled up and I nosed back onto the highway.

"Nice wheels," he said, "A new Lexus?"

"Yes, thanks. I like it."

"These SUVs have a whole lot of room. You could really have a party in the back seat there."

I didn't quite know a good answer to that one, so I didn't say anything.

"So, what's your name?" he asked.

"Chad," I answered. "I'm on my way to the coast. I've been to the mountains for the weekend." It was lame, but I wasn't all that good with small talk.

"Sounds great. Tim. That's my name, Tim. I'm just drifting down the road myself. Seeing where it leads. Seeing how far I can get on my wits and a promise."

"Exploring your world between high school and getting bogged down in college, I suppose."

"Ummm; something like that."

We went silent then for several miles. He lifted his arms and did a few twists back and forth in the seat and then massaged his biceps and ran his