San Fransisco, California. April 20 1975

Hitchhiking was expected in the '70s. You had to be smart about it. But there are more good people than bad people in the world; it was the time of free love.
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I was already an experienced hitchhiker, having crossed the entire state of California more than once. So it was easy to hitchhike from San Fransico to Santa Rosa to visit my friend for her birthday.
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I packed a small backpack with just a change of clothes, a few snacks and some water. Then I headed out to Marina Boulevard to catch a ride. There is a spot where the road merges with the highway; it's a great place to catch a ride. I'd seen a few there before. Just before you get to the Golden Gate Bridge, many tourists are driving there.
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I was wearing cut-off jeans and a fringe vest. A grey Escort pulled up with two middle-aged men in it. They offered me a ride, but I said no thanks. It didn't seem bright to get in the car with a couple of old guys.
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I waited half an hour before another car stopped, and it was a blue hatchback. I didn't notice what model car. The driver was a creepy old Mexican dude with a crazy moustache. He offered me a broken English ride, but I wasn't feeling it. So I refused again.
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About 10 minutes later, a blue van pulled up and stopped. I walked to the passenger side window; a lovely woman was seated. She asked me where I was going, so I told her.
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A man was driving; he had short brown hair and a beard. I was looking in the window and noticed a baby in the backseat. That was when I decided to get in the van. It seemed utterly ok to hitch a ride with this family.
The woman said her name was Jane and her husband, Tony, was the driver. Jane told me they were also going to Santa Rosa, so I was lucky. I had a ride all the way.
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Jane was a pretty lady, very European. She was tall, and thin and had a nice tan and long curly blonde hair. She looked like Farah Fawcett. Tony was more ethnic in his appearance. He was shorter than Jane, and he had dark hair and dark tan; maybe he had family in Mexico.
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The baby in the back was adorable, about six months old and as happy as possible. I felt completely comfortable in this van with these people. We were driving through a deserted stretch of the highway when Tony said the van was going funny. He said he was pulling over to check it out. I was playing with the baby in the back when Tony stopped the van and got out.
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Tony walked around to the back of the van. After a minute or so, he knocked on the window, asking one of us to help him. Jane asked if I'd do it, so I got out and walked around to the back. The back of the van was open; there was a tire iron on the ground next to the spare tire. I also noticed a wooden box open inside the truck. It was 3ft long by 2ft wide. That's when Tony jumped me and put a knife to my throat. The blade looked like a hunting knife; it had a sharp pointy edge, and it hurt when he pressed it into my neck.
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The highway was empty except for the trees and hills. There was a sign warning for falling rocks about 30ft from where we stopped. About half a mile behind us, there was a curve in the road. There just wasn't anything there but trees. Then Tony told me to get into the box. When I didn't do what he said, he repeated it. He said he would kill me if I didn't. I wonder why I didn't run, and I hate myself for getting into that box. But I did; I got in the box. I had to curl it up small to fit in it. I kept begging him not to close the lid, but he didn't listen. He closed the box. The box let no light in; it was complete blackness. There was also no sound; I couldn't hear anything, which made me think they couldn't listen to me either.
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I am curious how long we drove after Tony put me in the box. However, at some point, I felt the van stop. Then I felt the box as it was lifted and carried. The package was moved for 2 minutes at maximum, so it must have been close to where the van stopped. Then there was nothing again, just silence. The heat in the box was unbearable, and I couldn't breathe, and my body was hurting from cramped in this tiny space. That's when the box opened. My eyes couldn't adjust to the light. When my eyes did change, I could see Tony. We were in a bedroom. A large water bed was in front of me, and the walls were wood panelling. There was brown shag carpet on the floor and a wooden dresser in the corner.
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Tony told me if I made any noise, he would kill my family and me. So I just stood there. I didn't do anything at all. I let him tie my hands up. Then he strung them up to something on the ceiling. They were these metal hooks. Tony put a blindfold over my eyes and something in my mouth. It tasted like rubber. That's when he started to beat me.
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When he stopped beating me, I heard Jane come into the room. I heard them, you know, doing it. They both just left me hanging there at the end of their bed.
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They kept me locked up in their house for eight years. I thought it would never end.
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Sincerely,
Carol Sanders