The camera didn’t work – she had found it at the tip, still in its carry case, defunct – but she had taken to heart a reminiscence of her father’s, who in his youth had hitch-hiked all around the country, that no matter how dirty or unshaven he had been, or how far into the wilderness, or how late the hour, whenever he wore his long-lens camera round his neck, he always got a ride; it was an accessory that seemed to put strangers instinctively at ease.
