“Is something the matter?”

“Now.” He snatches the card but he obviously already know with whom he’s dealing.
“So you’re all the way from Fresno, Cally Fornya.” The hitchhiker perks up at this, but he’s already caught in the policeman’s glare.

“You. Let’s see some ID too.”

“But I wasn drivin off-cer.” The hitchhiker sings his best hillbilly impersonation.

“I said let’s see some ID.”

“Jee, s’pose I don have any. Well luck be…”

“Out of the car.”

The policeman is already swinging around for the passenger door while simultaneously undoing the latch on his holster. The hitchhiker is up on his feet, too. Before he slams the door, he gives the driver a meaning-laden look amidst all his mockery. Carefully, he points with his eyes from the driver, down to his pillow case bag, and then over to the policeman, who is already hauling one arm behind him and shoving him towards the rear of the truck. Words are imprecise as it quickly escalates to a back-and-forth of angry shouts. The policeman’s voice is prevailing, though it’s no clearer what he’s barking. A thud rocks the pickup and the driver turns to see the hitchhiker laid up against the side of the pickup.

“What’id he mean, with’at bag?” The driver reaches for it with a couple of curious outstretched fingers. Before he can lean over completely another thud rocks him from the seat. He can’t see the hitchhiker any more but judging from the sound, the combined weight of the two struggling men was thrown against the chassy.