Zygi heard a noise up the road. He stood and put out his thumb. He tried to forget his pathetic ride history and be hopeful. His first ride took him from San Martin to Gilroy and yesterday a truck took him from Gonzales to Soledad. He figured people were more comfortable taking a person toward the prison. He wished he could find someone going all the way to L.A. Now he watched an ancient Ford approach. It looked like it should have a crank on the front. No matter, it was slowing down, yahoo!
As it stopped, Zygi approached the window, “Thanks so much for stopping,” Zygi greeted the old couple.
“No problem. We’re going to King City, how about you?”
“I’m headed to L.A., but King City will do.”
“Hop in the back, young man. Name’s Harvey, this here’s Zella."
“Pleased to meet you, Theodore Zygmunt’s the name, but my friends call me Zygi.”
“Zygi it is then,” Harvey smiled as he pulled back onto highway 101.
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