I really enjoyed reading Ben Bachelder‘s recent blog post about hitchhiking, and it soon sent me down along Memory Lane. It sad that hitching is so rare these days, and I remember when I enjoyed the pleasures of standing at the side of the road, not knowing who I was about to meet. There were so many of us then! Hitching isn’t just about getting from A to B for free. No, it is more about the encounters you will have, the unexpected adventures that seem to always come your way, and the bank of stories you will build up for your older years.
Is hitching safe? It has an element of risk for sure, but I would rather take my chances in the car with a stranger than get in the car with someone I know who has had a drink, or who is elderly and can’t see very well, or who is just plain crazy. It requires common sense, an awareness of potential dangers and yes, a bit of luck. But doesn’t that apply to most things?
Here are 10 moments that stick in my mind; if you have your own hitching memories please share them here – they are doubtless a joy to read for all!
(incidentally, the picture is from one of my darkest moments: standing on the Autoroute du Soleil in the south of France for a whole day without success. This road was known as a hitchhikers’ graveyard – it was near impossible to get a ride here. I am skeletally thin after two months on the road. My mum found this picture disturbing)
1. My first ride – aged 16, in the south of France. I was trying to get out of Beziers to a tiny village around 100km away in the countryside, where friends were staying. I made up a sign for the nearest small town, and a guy stopped in a van in less than 5 minutes. He said he was going to the town on my sign, and asked me my business. When I told him where I was going, he shook his head in shock and said that was exactly the village he had to deliver to. He even took me to the door of the house. I couldn’t believe it! I thought “this hitching game is SOO easy!”
2. Singing for my supper – getting as far as Geneva one year, I had run out of money to get a train back to the UK. I met a fellow backpacker who had spent his day in the station in Geneva, strumming his guitar for a few francs. I offered him the chance to perform in an unlikely duet, and for a couple of hours we knocked out Beatles classics to the poor Swiss, who had done nothing wrong to deserve my singing. Miraculously, the earnings allowed me to get me a night in a hostel, and enough to have some food for the trip back to Calais. I hope he’s found a better singing partner by now!
3. Crossing the English Channel was a challenge, in the days before security checks. We always tried to get a free ride, but I did strike lucky. A truck driver once picked me up just outside Dover, and hid me in his cab. Having successfully laid low for the crossing, he let me stay in the can overnight before I went on my way the next morning. We even shared a beer and watched French TV on his portable before I rolled out my sleeping bag over his seats (he had the driver’s bed in the back). A thoroughly nice guy.
4. My best ride of all! Just outside Dover, when travelling home to Nottingham, two Greek truck drivers were going north in convoy. The older guy picked me up, and then gave me two objects of great importance. One was a map, which I proceeded to use to help him and his friend negotiate the worst of England’s traffic, and the other was a bottle of Ouzo (with cup) which helped me in my route finding abilities. I had a great time, telling this guy about short-cuts to avoid the jams (thankfully none involved a low bridge!), gaining in confidence as the Ouzo kicked in. When we stopped for dinner, the two guys insisted on buying me a large meal and would hear nothing of my offer to pay. They both got out at the stop in Nottingham, gave me a hug and a cheery send-off and were on their way north. Fantastic guys!
5. Trying to hitch a ride across the M62 in the Pennines, I was at a service station, when I saw the sponsorship-covered car of England cricketer Robin Smith pull in. I quickly knocked up a sign that read “Robin Smith – England’s no.1.” As he drove past, he gave me a big grin, a thumbs up, BUT NO LIFT. Shame on you Robin!
6. I rarely hitched at night, but one time having arrived in Belgium at midnight, I had been dropped off at a remote gas station around 1am. Even worse, the staff then told me they were closing in 10 minutes. There was nothing for it. I went up to each driver at the gas station and asked directly for a ride. Unsurprisingly, they all declined, until I saw one car pull in right as they were closing the payment booth. It was a large Mercedes, and I thought to myself “no chance!” But, to my pleasant surprise, the guy offered me a ride to Brussels! As we got talking (his glamorous wife was driving) he told me he was renting the car and that he was the private secretary of the Uruguayan president. Once in Brussels, at around 2.30 am, he even offered to take me for a drive through the city to show me the sights. Top guy!
7. As a student in the north of England, getting to Wembley for football matches was not easy, and public transport was out of the question on our budgets. So when four of us managed to get tickets for an England match, we set off from Bradford in pairs to get to London in time for the match. No problem; we made it in plenty of time, and enjoyed an England victory. Coming home, the four of us were very fortunate to get a ride from a builder in a van, who let us all jump in the back. He said he was happy to have the company as driving at night was so dull. Unfortunately for him, his double mattress in the back (it is only later that I wondered about his likely adventures on that mattress) was so comfortable that within moments the four of us were asleep. As the one who had some hitching experience I realised that one of us should remain awake for our safety’s sake, but the next thing I knew he was letting us out and we were five miles from home! I felt so sorry for the driver, who did not get the company he had hoped for.
8. The fabled story, and I am sure that most have heard this account from someone – a Kiwi guy I met swore it happened to him. As an 18 year old, I believed him. Now as an old sceptic I reckon he just heard a great story and retold it as his own. He had been hitching in the south of France, and had got a ride from an attractive middle-aged woman in her 30s. They got talking, and she soon revealed that she had just been dumped by her husband. The dude offered her a shoulder to cry on, and you can guess the rest. He claims to have stayed at her plush pad for a month, comforting her day and night. Kiwi guy, if you’re out there and remember this story, confess now!
9. Finally two tales from the other side. I picked up a guy once in south Wales, and he was going to Nottingham, same as me. It turns out as we get talking that he is on weekend release from an open prison! Not necessarily information that he would share before getting into the car, but it did put me on edge. But he warmed up as we got chatting, I offered him a coffee when I stopped for a break and by the end of the two hour ride he wouldn’t stop chatting. He was also so grateful for the ride, that I felt embarrassed at doubting him earlier.
10. And this one is very recent. Only three months ago, we were driving through rural Syria, on a desert road in the east, trying to get to the Roman city of Palmyra. We knew we were lost when we were no longer arriving at any of the places on the map. We then passed two guys next to a broken down motorbike, who were flagging us down. On the one hand, should I pick someone up, when I couldn’t even see his face? (he had a headscarf on). On the other, we hadn’t passed a car for an hour, it was baking hot and these guys were in trouble. Thankfully we did stop and open the door to him. No words were exchanged, I just drove on for around 20 minutes until we came to a small village and he tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled over and he gave me a cheery “shukran” and was off. It was only then that I thought of asking him where we were! Along with his friends from the village they helped me identify where we were on my dodgy map (over 200km from where I thought we were) and were solely responsible for ensuring we reached Palmyra before dark. Shukran to you guys!
In the late 1980s, I hitchhiked from Philadelphia to Seattle with a new boyfriend. I remember each ride to this day—some terrifying, some truly sublime. But in some ways, the first ride was the most magical: Out of the stream of traffic, a single pick-up pulled over, and we ran to meet it. The driver was a former trucker, and he gave us tips for how to hitch safely—one of his suggestions was that I not wear shirts like the one I had on. He meant no offense and I took none, just rummaged around in my pack for another and changed in a rest stop. When he was getting off I76, he used his CB to find us a ride with a trucker he trusted who was going our way, and the two coordinated a swap point at the side of the interstate. Climbing into a big cab on a humid summer day, I felt the thrill of making good time, of making the huge world smaller. Later I had realized that I had left my diaphragm in the first driver’s car—a little memento. I hope it didn’t get him into any trouble.
Great story Zoe! I wonder what he made of finding the diaphragm (if indeed it was him who found it!) It's good you're first ride was so positive – it gets you hooked doesn't it!
Thanks for stopping by and commenting, and happy travels!
Andy
I ran out of money in Darwin, so I started hitchhiking to to WA. I got several rides in a couple of days until I reach Kununurra and got some work. My favourite ride was on petrol roadtrain. The cabin was like a jet cockpit. The truckie bought me a chocolate Big M (milkshake). At the time it was a luxury. One of the best gifts I’ve ever received. Next day I caught a ride with a retiree driving around Australia. As he drove he would tape record his descriptions of the landscape — later to be sent to his children and grandchildren (poor souls).
Nice tales bringing back memories from back in the day. Hitch hike races from the start of the M4. to pubs out in Oxfordshire, which might as well have been on the other side of the earth if you lived in South East London in early 70′s.
Like yourself many trips around Europe, when hitching was the only way to travel.
Found this book in British Museum Shop..
No Such Thing as a Free Ride, a collection of hitchers tales. published by Cassell Illustrated.
Back in the day, well ok 1984 if you must know, I hitched-hike throughout North America and Europe, and enjoyed many wonderful experiences. Things may have changed since then but the best country for hitching was most definitely Germany. There you could get a ride within 10 minutes, and when you are dropped off, pick another one in short time. The worst country for hitching would have been Ireland. I once waited over 3 hours in drizzling rain before I was finally picked up by a businessman on his way to Cork. Three of the best (and longest) rides I had were in Portugal (picked up on the border by a mad truck driver who took me to Porto), In Spain, picked up by a young German woman who took me all the way to the coast, and in Austria, where I was picked up by a middle-aged woman who took me to Linz (she even bought me lunch and refused my offer to pay). Ah, those were the days. As Kris Kristoffersen wrote, ‘freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose’.
Thanks Mark, Sean and Gary for the great stories. I’ll look out for that book Sean. I’m tempted to have another go at hitching now and see how much harder it would be, 20+ years later. I remember Germany having a good reputation, but I also understood France was the worst place to hitch. Am surprised you had such a hard time in Ireland Gary. Your wait in the rain sounds like a miserable 3 hours… Hitching has brought me so many great memories. It would be good if there was a revival of this very green way of travel.
Back in 2001, my ex-boyfriend and I hitchhiked from Buenos Aires all the way down to Ushuaia and back! If you check out a map of Argentina, these are LONG distances but it was so worth it! I have wonderful memories of this trip, drinking mate (argentinean herbal tea) with the truck drivers and keeping them company while engaged in very interesting conversations for hours. We met awesome people along the way, mostly europeans who apparently love Patagonia..well, who doesn’t, right? It’s gorgeous there!.
We were very lucky finding rides, and I guess this was because we were a couple. Guys alone might find it more difficult, you know…
I highly recommend it although nowadays, you have to be extremely careful. But try it, at least once. Great post!
Great story Mariela. Thinking back to mate in Argentina, and wishing I was there now :-)
Agree that couples tend to do better hitching, although I think most guys are ok as long as they look clean and non-threatening. Glad you loved Patagonia too.
To you all – great “back in the day” stories! Aaaah memories!
1. Hitched across Europe – nearly got run down on autobahn by 18 wheelers until I got picked up in a Merc and got a lift straight into Bon and a full sightseeing tour for free!
2. Hitched across Oz just after there had been a kidnapping of a hitchhiker – got picked up in the middle of nowhere by a female in a ute (aussie for pick up) and had to feed her baby whilst she drove!
3. Hitched with mates in South Africa, with surfboards and back packs and were always being crammed into tiny little cars with surfboards sticking out sunroofs!
4. Theres the Mitfau Centraal(sp) in Germany – been going for years that ties up hitchhikers with people driving across Europe – used it once and landed up driving a pimped up souped up sports saloon down to Portugal for £20 – I loved it!
I always pick up hitchers now – I know what its like being on the side of a road and desparate!
Blessed be to all those drivers that pick up hitchers – there are souls in this world that know!
Happy hitching
Helford River Expeditions
Great memories, thanks!
I have hitchhiked a lot!
As a student at university (in the ’70′s) I hitchhiked between my university town (Kingston) and Ottawa – Toronto all the time. On one of the rides to Toronto I passed friends of my parents in their car. They waved but also informed my parents and I got an earful.
The best ride ever was in the north of France where my husband and I had been waiting for at least 4 hours. A guy in a Mercedes (who would have guessed) pulled over, drove us to his gorgeous home, fed us a fantastic meal with a dusty bottle of wine chosen from the cellar and then drove us an hour to the border crosssing we were aiming for.
I have also had the Danish police pick me up – first a leccture on not hitch hiking but then a drive to exactly where I wanted to go.
My most recent experience was just a few years ago. Four of us had just finished backpacking the Chilkoot Trail (the world famous gold rush trail in BC/Alaska). We got out to the highway hours before the bus was due so my friends managed to get the first car passing & got a ride to Skagway. My husband and I waited about 20 minutes and got delivered three hours later on the hotel doorstep in Whitehorse.
I could go on and on… no pickup in Yugoslavia carrying a Turkish rug (resorted to buses), picked up by a French speaking (thanks to Club Med) Turkish fellow outside the Greek border & driven to Istanbul, bad experience between Sydney and Melbourne but young & stupid and have never been separated from my passport since.
Great post & fun to think back to all my adventures.
Thanks for sharing Leigh. Sounds like you have had more than your fair share of adventure! I enjoyed particularly your Alaskan/Canadian story. I’ve also found that hitching can be a lot quicker than the bus (and a lot more fun too!)
Your Mercedes life takes some beating though. Food and wine too.. hard to top!