I was hitchhiking in northern Georgia back in 1976 with my then wife, Mel, and dog, Osha. Heading north, we got picked up by a 30-something Southern business man, named Drew, in a two-door Ford Galaxie.
A half hour into the ride, after he’d felt us out and decided we were decent folk, Drew offered to take us as far as Kingsport, Tennessee, in the northeast corner of the state. Further, he proposed that we’d paint two interior rooms in his health spa in exchange for two nights in a motel, free food the whole time, $50, and a ride back to the interstate when we were through. We liked him, so we agreed.
About 30 miles before Kingsport, he mentioned that he wanted to jump off the interstate to stop and see a friend. We were fine with that, especially because we were on no particular time schedule. When hitchhiking, you often gotta go with the flow.
Getting off the highway, he pulled into an Arby’s. He fed us and himself, plus he bought two big roast beef sandwiches for Osha. She was in doggie heaven.
We travelled up a bunch of back country roads before coming to an old-style saloon bar. He said he’d be inside for 10 or 15 minutes and be right back. So we sat and passed the time, with Mel riding shotgun in the front passenger seat and Osha and me in the back seat.
Out in front of the saloon were a bunch of good old boys, in their 30s and 40′s, looking like they were rode hard and put away wet. I joked that they were probably all named Bubba and Junior.
As we conversed, Mel had her head turned toward us in the back seat. Over her shoulder, I noticed one of the Bubba’s heading toward the car. I saw that he was sporting a holster and gun, as if he was part of Jesse James’ gang. He walked between our car and the car next to us.
Suddenly he pulled the passenger door open, drew his gun, and put it to Mel’s head. She turned her head to see who had opened her door, unaware that it was a gun that was pressed against her head.
Upon seeing her face, Bubba pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I could only see your long hair. I thought you were my ex-wife.” He holstered his gun, stuttering, “I saw you were in Drew’s car. I thought he had taken up with my ex. I’m really sorry, maam.”
- Mountain Man
Tags: blog, Cape May Court House, Hitchhiking, Real Estate, Wildwood