The happiness I felt at
rolling along again was sadly short lived. While I received the luxury of sitting in
the front seat, I quickly found that my driver was not nearly as courteous as
the last driver. He had a certain tone to his voice that made my smile fade a
little. I tried to focus on the road ahead gamely, but could not ignore the
noises that soon began to filter forward from the back bunk.
Things seemed to
be going from bad to worse.
As the sun set,
we drove along in darkness. Few other vehicles passed us by. We were in the
desert, driving towards the coast and it seemed even more isolated now that the
sun was gone. The only thing that illuminated the night sky was the truck’s
headlights carving a path through the inky gloom. What was worse, was that with
two drivers, one could sleep while the other drove, keeping the truck moving
24-7. There was always a set of watchful eyes. It did not escape me either,
that it didn’t sound like the man in the back was getting any sleep. There was
much rustling of bodies and muffled grunts. While I could not understand the
actual words that were being said, I got the feeling that the young woman in
the back was not interested in the advances that were being foisted upon her. I
stared out the windshield, trying to figure out how I could best help the poor
girl.
Then a hand materialized on my leg.
I instantly
pushed it away, but my hackles were now up and raised high. “Oh lord, how the
hell was I going to get out of this truck?” my brain desperately demanded. The lascivious
smile of the driver made me recoil and pull tighter into myself. This was not
good. Not good at all. The girl in the back seemed to be doing an adequate job
of keeping the second driver away from herself, but things were getting
decidedly dangerous. It was dark out. We were literally miles from nowhere and
our apparent saviours
had turned into fiends that were attempting to extract their fare for passage in flesh.
Then the drivers
switched places. And so did myself and my other hapless companion. Now she was
in the front seat and I was on the bunk, but sleep was the farthest thing from
my mind. I was young, white and vulnerable as a female traveler at the mercy of
these strange men. As fingers began to crawl up my leg, I kicked and began to
pray. My words felt hollow and useless in a foreign tongue, but I used them
none the less.
“No!” I said. “Stop
it!”
And yet they still
kept coming. I kept insisting on being left alone, trying to make myself as
small and inaccessible as possible. My brain found the image of God, and despite
not having had much use for his omnipotent powers in the past, I now began to
beg favours at a rapid
pace. I beseeched his sense of fairness, good and integrity. My body was taut
and tense with the strain of resistance and my willing of a positive energy to
intervene. My tone became more strident, as I pleaded with higher powers to
please release me from this state of strife. As one side of my brain grappled
with images of worst case scenarios, I distinctly heard my mother warning me
against talking to strangers and the bad things that could happen. “Please,
please”, I begged. Let this not be the time when she would be right!
Gradually, my
molester began to lose interest in the chase. Perhaps sleep got the better of
him, or perhaps his soul realized that what he was attempting to do was the
wrong thing. Whatever it was, that night my Guardian Angels earned their places
in the Heavens for eternity. I wanted to cry, sob or scream, but my fight or
flight response had me wired into a ball ready to attack if necessary. I
occasionally felt a hand explore to see if perhaps I was asleep or had changed
my mind, but a swift shove let him know that I was not up for a night of ‘fun’.
Long after he turned over and curled up to go to sleep, I lay tightly in the
corner of the bunk, my breath ragged in my chest. I no longer considered
hitch-hiking to be the free and easy ride I once thought of it as. I somehow
felt like I used up one of my lives that night. In the end, I never wanted it
back.
A bottle of Bayer's 'Heroin'. Between 1890 and 1910 heroin was sold as a non-addictive substitute for morphine..
Metcalf's Coca Wine was one of a huge variety of wines with cocaine on the market. Everybody used to say that it would make you happy and it would also work as a medicinal treatment. 
Mariani wine (1875) was the most famous Coca wine of it's time. Pope Leo XIII used to carry one bottle with him all the time. He awarded Angelo Mariani (the producer) with a Vatican gold medal.
Produced by the Maltine Manufacturing Company of New York . It was suggested that you should take a full glass with or after every meal. Children should only take half a glass.
At 40% alcohol plus 3 grams of opium per tablet. It didn't cure you... but you didn't care!
All stage actors, singers, teachers and preachers had to have them for a maximum performance. Great to 'smooth' the voice.
Very popular for children in 1885. Not only did they relieve the pain, they made the children very happy!
I'm sure this would make them sleep well. (not only the Opium, but also the 46% alcohol)
