I have been on both ends of that situation.
Like Kopek, I was driving a 1948 Chevy. It was a 1/2 ton custom cab pickup. At a diner in Idaho, (I think), a fellow walked in & asked who owned the old Chevy? I raised my hand, he walked over to my table, sat down & told me a tale.
The story went that his grandpa had owned that particular truck since new in 1948. He had always loved that truck. Grandpa had taught him to drive in that truck, it took them fishing & camping, it was part of the family. Time passed and Grandpa sold it while grandson was in Vietnam.
The grandson had been hoping to find one just like grandpas to fix up & share with the old man in his retirement. The grandson had just got done with chores that morning & was heading into church when he spotted my truck. He had to stop and ask about it.
I came through town on my way to some where else, I stopped at the diner because I was very hungry & they were open at 05:00 on a Sunday. He recognized the truck from some dings, dents, & one weird bumper sticker. It read “Be Alert, The World Needs More Lerts”
What could I do? If the story was true, Fate had brought his grandpas truck to him. If the story was not true, He told it well & he should be rewarded for the telling. I sold it to him for a small profit. He gave me a ride to the train station.
Another time, I was hitching out to my uncles ranch 400 miles away. I was having no luck, no rides, & no song in my heart. It had been a hard month. I was bummed out & was going to see my uncle as he was always upbeat. It was raining as it only can in Western Oregon. For twelve hours I had had no rides, no food, & my parka was leaking. My feet ached from the long walk on the black top. Then I spotted an old VW bus sitting under a tree at this ranch style house. It was miles from the nearest town.
Now I am big & ugly. At the time I had a long unruly beard & long dirty hair. I also smelled like a wet dog. When I knocked on the door an old (60ish) lady answered, (I was 19 or so). She took one look at me & invited me in, offered me coffee & a bowl of her clam-chowder. While I ate, she asked me where I was headed & what she could do for me.
I told her I was here to buy her bus. She laughed & explained to me that just that morning her son had called her to tell her that he wanted to sell the old “Hippy Van” He wanted $450.00 cash. (She had seven sons and one daughter all grown & out of the house.) I paid her. She got me the title, the keys, & she filled the tank from the farms gas pump. She then sent me on my way with a sack lunch “in case I got hungry”. That old bus had a gas fired heater, I was soon toasty warm & grinning ear to ear.
Hell of a story, but it is all true. I have often wondered why she was not scared of me that day. Probably because she had seven sons.