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I saw him from a good distance away, walking down the highway in the direction I was driving shortly after a big cloverleaf marking the intersection of two major highways. He hardly looked like an experienced hitchhiker, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Not only was hitchhiking illegal on a highway like this, but I also couldn't remember the last time I'd seen a hitchhiker on the roads at all. And I especially couldn't remember seeing one as ill equipped for hitchhiking as this one was. I couldn't tell how old he was, but he certainly looked young—barely out of high school, certainly. Not more than nineteen. He had the usual backpack, which was hanging from one of his hands, but he was shirtless, a white T-shirt hanging over his shoulder, and had on low-slung cut-off jeans.
I wanted to help ahitchhiker and he wanted to repay it but had no money