Hitch Hiker   Hitch Hiker by Harry Harrison (1960)  The needle
on the gas gauge was touching empty. Kleg looked at it and
cursed and knew he would have to stop and refill the tank. It
took an effort to make his foot leave the floor-tight
accelerator and move over to the brake. Every minute and every
mile put him that much farther ahead of them, gave him that much
more of a chance. But the tank had to be filled.  From horizon
to horizon the road stretched, empty and shimmering with the
late afternoon heat waves. One spot was as good as another to
stop in that monotonous desert of mesquite and cactus. Now that
he had made up his mind to stop, he wanted to do it fast and get
it over with. The tyres squealed as he jammed the brake, then
stones grumbled and rattled against the fenders as he turned off
on to the shoulder. With a final lurch the car stopped and was
immediately enveloped in a slowly settling cloud of dust. The
silence was intense after the constant roar of the engine.  Kleg
took a look at the back se