“Someday I’m going to write a book called The Psychology of Hitchhiking. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds interesting,” I said.

“You don’t know anything about publishing books, do you?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. No.”

“Doesn’t cost to ask,” he said.

We walked a moment in silence.

“Seventeen,” I said. “You must get lonely sometimes.”

He frowned. “Yeah. Sometimes. I mean, I wish I could find a wife, but finding someone who would live this way isn’t very likely. There are women who like the road, but there are ten thousand guys to every one of them, so they get snatched up real quick. Besides, to meet women you have to stay in shelters or ride the trains, and I’ve never liked either.” He sighed a little. “So, what’s your story? Why are you on the road?”

I thought briefly about how much to share, then decided to tell him everything. “I lost my wife last year after she broke her back in a horse riding accident. While I was taking care of her, my business was stolen from me. I lost everything. In a matter of weeks I lost my wife, my business, my house, and my cars. All gone. So I packed up and started walking. Key West was as far as I could go without swimming, so that’s where I decided to go.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” he said sympathetically. “There’s a lot of bad in this world. What your brother doesn’t do to you, God will.” He looked around, raising his hands. “It’s dog eat dog out there. Those Sunday meeting minions will tell you that God’s beauty is witnessed in nature. But their view is selective. The truth is, nature is horrifying, red in tooth and claw.” He looked out over the corn. “Out there in that field right now there is death and terror.”

“I see a lot of corn to feed people,” I said.

“Sure there are sunsets and roses and all that crap, but there’s also the fly struggling in the web while a spider sucks the life from it. There are wolves hunting down a baby deer and eating it alive. These things were made by God too.”

“You don’t get invited to many parties, do you?”

He ignored me. “So what’s with this God who makes beautiful sunsets then soaks the ground beneath them in blood. If you ask me, I think God is the ultimate sadist. He’s like a kid who drops red ants and black ants together in the same jar just to watch them fight. I think this Earth is nothing more to God than a big cockfight.”

“That’s about the darkest view of God I’ve ever heard,” I said.