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Trudy waved to Mr. Johnson in his ’83 Pontiac Parisenne when she saw him coming toward them. He pulled the large car to the side of the road and reached across the front seat to open the passenger door.
Trudy, Bruce, and Alice had been hitchhiking for twenty minutes and their clothes were soaking wet. Alice was shivering. Trudy had never been so thankful to see anyone. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson, we would really appreciate a ride to my house. My car broke down. Turn off onto Bard, please.”
Mr. Johnson explained he was on his way to pick up the newspaper and a carton of milk for his wife’s tea, but readily agreed to take them to Trudy’s house. The car seats were slick vinyl, so he assured them he would dry them off later and not to worry.
“Nice car,” said Bruce, fitting his bulk into the f
