A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitch hiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you - daft as a bush, but very, very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough
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He opened it in the bus station, and promptly went into an uncontrollable laughing fit. Even when he explained it to onlookers, they still didn't get it.
Last fall, he took the towel with him to Europe and to Newfoundland.
RIP Mr. Adams
[Shameless plug: Read "Last Chance to See" by Douglas Adams. Non-fiction book about endangered species.]
Smooth sailing, Mr. Adams!