About the same era - I had similar experience.

Hitch hiking back from a dance. My collegue and I were picked up by a ranch hand that smelled of booze. The canyon road, was narrow and winding above a steep river gorge. There were various turnouts and sharp bends.

We were exhausted, it was late and we were thankful for any sort of a lift... even one from a fast driving drunk, with sloppy control. He didn't talk, and we didn't have the strength or desire to.

Over the course of an hour he would suddenly, brake, stop, and get out of the truck saying, "this would be a good spot." He would walk around and get back in.

At first we thought he was only seeing a man about a horse. By the third time, our curiosity could not be contained, and we asked, "Good for what?"

As he accelerated out of the turnout spraying gravel he said, "To kill myself." Then he began a story, straight from a country western ballad of a green love gone wrong. He wanted a place to drive his truck off into oblivion.

The forth stop - we bailed out quick and continued a twelve mile walk back to our quarters.

Sincerely,
Gargoyle