POST 50
08/06/2013 09:42 am ET

A Reunion With My Younger, Hitchhiking Self

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Summer of 1972: a slender 19-year-old (curly black hair, florid beard, 155 pounds) stood beside a Montana highway, thumb in the air. A truck pulled over. “Going as far as Missoula,” the driver said, opening the cargo doors. In the hold, others crouched, blinking back at him. “Thanks, man,” he said, hopping in. The doors shut; the latch turned.

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