So, would the OP give the ride again? Everything turned out fine - the hitcher got on his way, the driver helped someone out and got a good story out of it. But the tendency is to look back on an odd character as if it was a close call.
I worked with guy 20 years my senior. He'd been around in the 60's, done a few things, known (biblically) a number of women, and considered himself a man of the world and a good judge of character. The last ride he gave was decades before to a young woman hitching in Marin County going east. He eyeballs her at 35 mph, she's in a flower dress, a little hippie-dippy, but that was common in the early 70's. At the curbside, she seems fines, friendly, normal enough. And anyway, he's a guy, she's a girl, right? So he lets her in.
At first, she's a little vague about where's she's going - east on Sir Francis Drake. A little further, a little further. As they drive, the story comes out. She's going to San Quentin (California's maximum security prison) just before SFD becomes the Rishmong-San Rafael Bridge over the Bay. For a conjugal visit. With someone she doesn't know. She's a follower of Charlie. Charlie Manson. Charlie doesn't get conjugal visits because of a few things he did to Sharon Tate. But Charlie gets BIG points with other inmates if he can get young women to show and do the deed with whoever he says.
My coworker hadn't given rides since. Which is fine, his choice. But I observe that he was not only unharmed but got a one heck of a story out of it.
How would it be if we all played the same kind of "what-if" with our BP trips? I was a foot away from falling off down an 800-foot cliff. If it had been 10C colder, I would have frozen my bum off. If a gang of Hell's Angels had been 20 miles up the trail and intent on harming me, I'd have been defenseless. Etc. Etc. Or if we thought after hearing of someone pinned by a boulder and having to amputate his own arm, that the same thing would happen to us on our next trip, we'd never go backpacking again.