PictureChoosing our words wisely!
So there we were, at the side of the 101. We’d chosen a spot that was easy for people to read our sign and they could pull over if they wanted to offer us a ride. People driving past mainly smiled and lots of them waved. We got the impression here (and the rest of our trip down the coast) that people were reminiscing about their own days past, of being young and carefree. A few grumpy old people looked cranky, craning to read our sign. We joked and laughed with each other to ease the slight feeling of self-consciousness, and we were feeling comfortable in no time.

Ride 1: Jesse/Ghazi  (“Kah-zee”)

Less than ten minutes had passed when Jesse pulled over and began rearranging his car to let us in. He was our first ride, and he was a friendly man from Jerusalem who had lived in California for eight years. He told us about his involvement in peace talks held all over the world and about the time he met the late Pope.

“What kind of a guy was he?” Tom wondered.

Jesse replied that he didn’t really know, he’d just been blessed by him. But he did say “I don’t think God needs a middle man or a postman.”

When he dropped us off, Jesse generously gave us his phone number in case we got stuck, saying that he would be in the area waiting for a call about work. We thanked him, shook hands and went on our way.

Picture
Probably don't make this face if you want people to pick you up.
Ride 2: Joe

We hadn’t even left the shopping area car park where we’d sourced some more cardboard and written “Florence” before a man pulled over, excitedly shouting “I’m going there!” and we were off on our second ride.

Joe was driving a pick up truck to the next town, and was happy to let us jump in for the ride. Exhilarated at our second consecutive successful hitchhike, we both later reported the experience feeling a little surreal as we drove along the windy coastal track, often exclaiming at its beauty. 

Joe had two plastic skeletons dangling above his steering wheel. Given that he’d just recently recovered from open heart surgery, the skeletons seemed like a poignant symbol of mortality. 

“I bow down to no man,” he told us.


Joe didn't talk much unless he had something to say. He struck us as a very kind man: he didn't have much but was generous. For one thing, he picked us up without a moment’s hesitation despite his natural introversion and asked nothing in return. Second, despite being a local, he stopped at a stunning lookout to show us where the sea lions live. 

Picture
Joe showing us where the sea lions live in the warmer months.
Our favourite story that Joe told us was about being a Sacramento ice cream man in his twenties! 

“If the kids could vote, I’d be mayor of that place,” he said.

He dropped us off in Florence and said our goodbyes. He kindly told us that if we couldn’t get a ride that day to the next town, he knew a place we could stay for free. We said thank you for the ride and parted ways.
Picture
Riding with Joe.

We wrote a new sign, ambitiously writing a relatively far off town, and tried our luck. Two young guys stopped and offered us a ride part of the way. We declined, both independently sensing that the guys might not be our kind of people. We just told them we wanted to go further South than they were going and thanked them for offering: no hard feelings. 

If anyone reading this is thinking about hitchhiking themselves, remember you can ALWAYS say ‘no’, for any reason you like. Just because someone pulled over, does not mean you've entered into a social contract that you can’t break. Trust your instincts: there will always be another way.

It was afternoon when we had been dropped off, and we realised that most of the traffic was probably not going far: locals returning home from work. We decided to rest in Florence for the night and got a room. Our first day of hitching down the 101 and we’d covered just over 74 miles. Not bad… and it was about to get even better!

Got any questions about our first day of hitching, or want to share a story of your own? Comment below!
12/2/2013 11:28:57 am

Really enjoyed reading about your first hitching trip. Keep up the good writing- it's heartening to read about other women (and men) hitchhiking!

Reply
12/3/2013 06:04:47 am

Thanks for your comment Rajam! I love reading about others (such as yourself) having these kinds of adventures. It's good to know that hitching is not just a thing of the past. I've just posted about the second day of hitchhiking
<a href="http://nocompass.weebly.com/1/post/2013/12/a-piece-of-cardboard-and-a-sharpie-pt-3.html" title="A Piece of Cardboard and a Sharpie Pt 3">here</a> if you want to check it out!
Thanks for the encouragement and I'm really glad you enjoyed reading it.

Reply
mplo
9/19/2016 05:13:11 am

The idea that pooh-poohing the idea that women are more vulnerable to attack if they hitchhike and get picked up by someone with bad intentions is just a matter of keeping women home where they belong is a ton of malarkey, as far as I'm concerned. Back in the early 1970's, here in the Boston area, there was a whole slue of young women ranging in age from their late teens through their early 20's, who were hitchhiking to school, work or wherever, and were never seen or heard from again. Their bodies turned up in rather distant places, either in wooded areas, or by the roadsides, some weeks/months later. Boston, MA, in fact, was in the national spotlight for many weeks due to all those women who were killed while hitchhiking. The fact that not many people do it these days says something right there: Hitchhiking is way too risky, and the fact that most people are perfectly normal and honest does not negate the fact that the risk is still there.

I enjoyed reading your story, but hitch-hiking isn't for me. I'm glad to own my own car, and to live in an urban area where I've got easy access to public transportation. I did some occasional hitchhiking back in the 1970's, and had mostly okay experiences, but there were a couple of experiences I had, where the guys who picked me up started out with benevolent enough conversation. When their talk slid into sexual innuendos and/or took on sexual overtones, I decided to get out.

The fact that those young women, who were tough women who had it together, really knew their way around, and knew where they were going and ultimately ended up dead indicates that not everybody driving around out there in their cars is so benign.

Reply



Leave a Reply.