Nixon’s The One!
From My Father, Myself; A Memoir
By Richard Humphries
The roadside orange juice stands began toappear as soon as we crossed into Florida. I hadnever seen such spots before and glided theOldsmobile Delta 88 to the third or fourth one wecame upon.This wasn’t the usual A. & P. Supermarket’sfrozen yellow sludge. This juice was like none I hadever tasted and was incredibly slaking to my sixteenyear old gulps.The Drunk Couple lay snoring in each other’sarms as my Timex read six-thirty in the morning.So far my entire hitchhiking trip, solo, fromPontiac had surprised me at every turn.The friendliest was the salesman going fromDetroit to Knoxville. He was a father of three boys
and insisted on buying me two meals beforedropping me off and handing me five bucks and goodluck, kid.The scariest was flying down the hills of Kentucky, hanging on and sitting shotgun in a ’57Chevrolet Belair, slightly under the influence of moonshine. It was the first time I had ever been ina car doing a hundred miles per hour.The Drunk Couple were good enough sports. Thedeal was, I would drive as they sat in the back seat,taking long pulls from pints in paper bags. Theyplayed grab-ass and murmured sex stuff while Idrove for the fifth time on my fresh State of MichiganOperator’s License.When the cop in Georgia pulled me over, Iexplained I was getting used to the car, thus theerratic lane changes.
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Nixon's The One!
Some paths cross. Some plans change. Some people are crazy.
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