My daughter is a hitchhiker. “How do you know?”, you may ask.
And well you might. It is not because she has a copy of the Encyclopaedia Galactia. It is not because she has a Sub-Etha Sens-o-Matic or an electronic thumb.
It’s because she carries a towel with her everywhere she goes. It’s small and blue, slighty tatty, and she uses it for everything. Wrapping up stray purple kittens, tying around her head, putting beads in and snuggling under. For all I know, she uses it for flagging down passing spaceships
I think I should really take her to see the fiords soon.
Voyages of an Itinerant Beard 
Make sure she knows the difference between a Babel-fish and the piscine residents of your aquarium. Does the towel have edible food-stains?