Standing in the breakdown lane on the Interstate Highway near its Muncie, Indiana entrance, I did not have to wait too long before a white guy in his 20's, who had short brown hair and a mustache and was dressed in a suit and tie, stopped his car in front of me and opened his car's passsenger sidedoor.
And soon after I jumped into the front passenger seat of the car and told him that I was hitching into Michigan, he smiled and replied: "Looks like you're in luck, since I'm going all the way up to Detroit."
The culturally-straight-looking guy was friendly and seemed to have picked me up to break up his boredom of having to drive all alone in his car for most of the time it would take him to reach Detroit.
During the course of our conversing on the road up to Michigan, the culturally-straight-looking guy, while laughing, mentioned that he worked for the FBI and had just busted a student who was a big marijuana dealer in one of the college campus towns in Indiana; but that he, himself, actually liked the way hippie freaks like me were able to live. And once he served his time working for the FBI, which had paid his college tuition, he would likely move to some youth ghetto in some campus town himself, and then live like a hippie-freak for a few years, rather than quickly trying to find some new 9-to-5 government job or job in the corporate business world.
I can't recall much else about what we talked about before the FBI undercover agent eventually dropped me off at the Interstate Highway exit in Michigan, from which I was able to walk with my knapsack into the campus town; and eventually take a brief nap on the town's university campus for a few hours, before walking around and seeing if an old white womanfriend of mine, also in her early 20's, who lived there was at home.
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