Picking up a Hitchhiker in October

The other week I was heading down to Ludlow for an afterschool site visit as part of my work and picked up a hitchhiker.  I figured I was in a state car and should share the wealth.  The guy got in, dirty jeans, a patch of red hair on his chin and a backpack.  He introduced himself politely, shook my hand and mumbled pretty heavily in a thick Vermont accent.  Through sips on his well nursed coffee stained styrofoam cup, I found out he was twenty-two, has gotten his GED after dropping out of school, loved bass fishing and that life in VT was too expensive.  It was not clear where he lived, but that he was going south to visit some relative.  When I mentioned my afterschool work he told me about his two favorite teachers, both of whom had been afterschool site coordinators and whom I happened to know. "Yeah, they helped me stay out of trouble," he said.  Then, unsolicited, he started gushing about the afterschool programs he took and what they meant to him.  I'm not sure that the adults know what they did . If you were in the car and saw his eyes light up when he talked of these two, you would know what impact means.