When he finally reached an intersection, Dad pulled the car to the side and told the hitchhiker it was where he was turning off. That’s when the guy pulled a knife and told Dad to get out of the car. Everything he owned was in the back seat: Henry Fonda’s Louis Vuitton suitcase, some books he’d saved, and a typewriter he’d begun to write a novel on. Dad grabbed the keys out of the ignition and shoved the door open, running down the highway in terror. Realizing my father had outfoxed him, the lunatic chased him down the Pacific Coast Highway, knife in hand.
