Jack Winthrop, average high school student, Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land

You are tall and lanky. You are a virgin and have never used , though you've smoked cigarettes several times. You are wearing jeans, long johns, boots, a white tee shirt, a tan long-sleeved shirt, a green wool sweater, and a lined jean jacket. You have gloves and a warm wool hat.

You wait for an hour in the cold and wind, reading Stranger in a Strange Land, before a blue Ford Galaxie 500 pulls over for you. As you run for the door, you see an older man with a mustache, maybe 30, driving. The window is rolled down.

"Where you headed, mister?" he asks. He's wearing a grey suit, white dress shirt, and red tie. The warm heated air from the car wafts across your chilled face.

"Well, my final destination is San Francisco, but as far as you can take me is great," you reply.

"Well, hop in. I can take you as far as St. Louis if you give me a buck for gas. We got a deal?"

That's almost 100 miles, and you're pretty cold.