I can't remember the prompt that spawned these words...

They had long hair, but even at 75 mph I could tell they were men. They were dressed in bright red, yellow, blue, green, and purple baggy tee-shirts and cutoff shorts. And leather sandals. In as much time as it took to whiz past them on the freeway I saw them. Three men stood on the concrete rail at the edge of the freeway. One lept into the air and pulled one knee up to his chest and disappeared beyond the rail. Past them I could see the coffee waters of the cypress steeped Echeconee Creek. "What about the sharp stumps?" my mind screamed, "There are cotton mouths hiding in there!" My mouth hung open, my eyes bulged. By the time we passed the VW Microbus I asked my dad "Who are those people?"
We were driving along I75 in our Rambler station wagon. As usual I was in the back, flat, surrounded by windows.
"Those," drawled my father, "are hippies."