Jobber
Jobber, which means ‘an unspecified object,” as “Hand me that jobber over there.” Once I was driving back home to Illinois from Nebraska and I picked up a Native American couple who were hitch-hiking from the side of the road. The woman was a little dull-witted, and the husband wasn’t far behind, but we got on famously because we were able to communicate through the power of music.
At that time I had an old beat-up guitar in the back seat, where the husband sat. Once we got going, he asked me if he could play the guitar. I said sure, and he proceeded to play “Keep on the Sunny Side.” We all joined in, and I flipped on a small tape recorder to catch the concert. We were howling like a bunch of cats but having a ball. After the song was over, I took a drink from my Army surplus canteen, and I offered it to the gentleman. He said, “Sure, hand me that jobber, “ and I was startled because I hadn’t heard anyone say “Jobber” since I was a kid.
https://youtu.be/ZbmQQ4RfzVE
The Everlasting Now 
One time I was hitchhiking from Colorado back to my home in Illinois, and I got picked up by a couple in their late twenties travelling from LA to the east coast. It was a small car and I got in the back seat behind the driver. The driver hardly ever said a word, but the lady in the front passenger seat was very talkative. As we chatted away I noticed she was wearing bib-overalls except with short legs, and that she was wearing nothing under the bib on top but her bare skin. After we rode an hour or so she undid the bib, rolled down the window and sunned her bare breasts. This was the late sixties and I guess we all must have figured we were hip or something, so we just chatted on as though her state of undress was nothing unusual. When we stopped for gas the driver got out for a bit, and she told me he had taken some LSD and she was concerned that he was being so quiet. I was concerned that there might be some risk in riding with a guy who was under the influence of LSD, and also that he might react negatively to his gal flashing her bosom and chatting up a stranger. But I didn’t get out. We stopped for the night somewhere in Kansas at a rest stop and the two of them bedded down on a blanket, it being a warm summer night. I had my sleeping bag and bedded down a discreet distance away to give them some privacy. Next day we crossed the eastern half of Kansas as well as Missouri, and they dropped me off at the intersection of I 70 and I 55 on the Illinois side of the Father of Waters. I do believe the driver said “So long”, though that was one of the few times I heard his voice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That was your trip? I thought for a second it was mine. I’ve sure you’ve told me that stroy before, maybe several times. I got a ride back from New Mexico with a hot-rodder Neal Cassady type who had eloped the week before with a young gal from Wisconsin and they were coming back from their honeymoon in Mexico. Those were the days . . .
LikeLike