(continued from last week)
When I was lounging around at Dad’s in Connecticut I read an article in Time Magazine about the Canadian hitchhiking promotion. Wow. I was mainstream. There was a photo of a road sign in Wawa, Ontario with many scribbles by hitchhikers. They all lamented the fact that they were stuck in Wawa. For example: “Been here 16 days still no ride.”
After my friend in Sault Ste Marie dropped me off at the highway, I headed up past Batchawana Bay to Wawa. A challenge never means impossible and it takes quite a while to starve to death. Which reminds me, ain’t summer grand? About 15 minutes after sticking my thumb out at Wawa I got a ride with a nice retired couple in a pickup with a camper on the back.
Remember bench seats? We’ve got one in our ’94 Ram. The cute little lady slid over to make room for me and it made her husband grin. By the way, these retirees were younger than I am now. We still have cows and hate the thought of a day without that responsibility. These folks lived their whole lives sacrificing their time, saving for the day when they had no responsibility. But they could take their home with them and have room for me too.
Total strangers have lots to share. Our conversation paused when we pulled over to
make sandwiches. You can meet strangers in the checkout line or on a cruise but there was something special about those I met hitchhiking. Blind trust.
I don’t hitchhike anymore. Despite pledging not to do so because of my duty to my family, I picked up a hitchhiker going west out of Dumont a few years ago. As usual I started out like we were pals already, as I said, “I used to do a lot of hitching and picking up hitchhikers too.” This guy stared at the floor of the pickup and said, “I bet you did.” I was glad I wasn’t on that shortcut to Billings with him.
Meanwhile (back to 1973) I eventually made it to Dumont to see Grandma and Grandpa for a couple days and then headed to Yellowstone. The “gas crisis” turned it into a ghost town compared to the zoo it usually is. I even rode a grizzly bear. Just kidding.
My high school was about 18 miles from my home. We hitchiked home after school most everyday for about three years. Those were the days before “diversity is our strength” bullshit flooded the nation with mostly losers who can’t compete in the workplace or in healthy social relationships. I would hesitate today to do any more hitching.
I never depended on hitching when I had deadlines.
At the beginning of the woke era (’60s so-called civil rights push which was actually legitimizing theft) was when I saw the idea of collective property. So sad that few see capitalism as the only true path to prosperity for all who want it.