Speaking of Iberia, I was hitch hiking in Spain and got a lift off a man who swore he was a "liar"; when he asked who was the most famous Spanish musician in the UK and the only person I could think of was Julio ingleses, he pulled over and made me get out of his car. I realized later he was a lawyer, close enough.
Back in Portugal, I was told to get out of the car when I said I hadn't slept with any local women but they were very nice. Not sure which part of my answer was offensive.
To Morocco, where the driver moved his hand from my knee to ask me to go back to his place and be his slave. My decline only prompted the return of his hand.
And so to Haverford West, the day of Chas and Di's wedding, and an Aston Martin heading to Glasgow piloted by a self-proclaimed king of porno who said he saw a future for me in the movie business.
Take care out their kids, there are some strange folks about.