Am i to blame?
It was 1973 and my brother had moved in with me. Then the unthinkable happened. The girl I was seeing broke up with me. So I gave my brother my key to the apartment and took off hitchhiking to San Francisco. I was despondent.
After spending time in SF, I began to hitchhike back to Missouri. I was coming out of L.A. and met 2 girls hitchhiking. They asked if they could hitchhike with me. I said sure, why not?
We got a ride out of the city and headed east and on the 2nd or 3 ride, ended up with a couple of guys in a pickup truck. They took us to a camp where they were living and working on a construction project with quite a few other men. I didn't like this, and told the girls so. They thought it would be ok.
The one girl teamed up with the guy who had been driving the pickup truck. He was a nice looking guy and not the worst of the lot... but the other girl didn't fare so well. I heard a lot of fighting and screaming. I hid myself under a tarp and later when all was quiet, fell asleep.
They were sullen next morning when one of the men drove us back out to the highway and dropped us off.
We were picked up by a middle-aged man driving an 18-wheeler. He turned out to be not-so-nice, too.
We were nearing the state line, California to Nevada, and the trucker pulled over. "Weigh station up ahead. I can hide the girls but not you. Get out." I looked both those girls in the eyes and asked them quietly to abandon the trucker and stay with me.
They wouldn't. I never saw them again.
I'm sure they survived their ordeals and have lived to have some bad memories with the good. I have done the same. Some bad memories with the good.
Am I to blame for what happened that night in the California desert?
I don't want to think so, but I wept then, and it makes me feel bad, still. If I had told them in the first place that I hitchhike alone, maybe none of that would have happened.
But there is no going back and it's no use to have regrets that cannot produce any good thing.