Location:
United States

hitchhiking, homeless, vagabond

By eric_lco

Fuck school. I had to get away and do something everyone would disapprove of, yet the only money to my name was three dollars. While packing my bags, the plot formulated. At seven the next morning I slipped out of the house, saying goodbye to my mom as I did each morning of school, and hopped on a bus towards the interstate. I stepped out with my military backpack, raised my sign reading ‘SOUTH’, and stuck up my thumb. With my shaven face, Hawaiian shirt, and smile, it took only five minutes before a kid no older than myself stopped. I trotted over, threw my bag in, and smiled at him. I was off.

He was a mechanic on his way to work, so he could only take me about ten miles. Upon letting me out, I graciously thanked him, and proceeded towards another good pickup spot. The subsequent ride was with a contractor in his thirties who dropped me near the outskirts of town. This was a much less desirable area to be hitching from, and it took me the better part of thirty minutes to land a ride.

When I finally did, I was on the shoulder of the interstate, mere feet from cars flying past me at seventy miles an hour. It was a trucker headed to Las Vegas who stopped. The first thing he said to me was, ‘I’m Jim, and I’m gay. If you aren’t alright with that, you can get out now.’ To which I responded, ‘I’m Eric, and straight. As long as you don’t hit on me, it’s cool.’ He laughed and took off. There are few better ways to get to know someone than being stuck in a car with them for hours on end. We talked of his children, work, and hobbies, but his favorite topic was sex. He kept trying to get me to bestow stories of my sexual experiences upon him, and seeing that it was a long ride, I entertained myself by making them up on the spot.

Unfortunately he liked me a bit too much, so I started avoiding the subject when he offered to buy me lunch. Seeing as how I only had $3 I couldn’t refuse, so we stopped at Burger King. By this time he was flamboyantly gay and leaning over the urinal dividers trying to catch a glimpse of my penis didn’t exactly put me at ease. I calmed myself by counting down the miles until Las Vegas, where we would go our separate ways. Nearing Sin City, he declared his stay in a motel and cheerfully offered me to spend the night with him and a ride to LA tomorrow. I told him I was headed east. Devastatingly infatuated with me, he begged to spend a few more minutes with me. I agreed to take a taxi with him into the city only after talking him out of fifteen more dollars. Upon my departure he scrawled his number on a napkin with instructions to call anytime. I jumped out, and as the taxi sped off crumpled the napkin and dropped it in the gutter.

The sun was setting while I used two dollars of my change for the bus to the outskirts of Las Vegas. I walked into the desert away from the sight of passing cars, threw down my sleeping bag and fell asleep to fearful dreams of waking with scorpions. Arising with the sun, I enjoyed a bagel, and stuck out my thumb determined to make the 600 miles to Flagstaff, Arizona.

As the first hour rolled away un-rewarded, my arm became increasingly heavy and discouragement took over. It was an additional hour before a black girl in her twenties pulled off. Originally from Florida, she had moved to Vegas after a major hurricane struck her home. We hit it off instantly, talking for the 45 minute drive about society, politics, movies, and good books. When she let me out in literally The-Middle-of-Nowhere, summer heat blasted me. I took up my usual position next to the road and up went my thumb. One hour slowly drug into six. I truly began believing I would stand in the middle of the Arizona desert for days, or even weeks. I found cardboard and wrote, ‘ANYWHERE BUT HERE!’ It got a few smiles, but no rides. Resigned to my fate of dying in the desert, I lay on my back and closed my eyes, absolutely motionless until I heard somebody asking if I needed water. This didn’t register at first. I had been stranded in the desert for nearly an entire day and wasn’t sure that a real person was actually talking to me, or if I was going crazy. I slowly sat up, blinking to get the sun glare out of my eyes, and looked around. The middle aged woman was headed to Flagstaff. I beamed at my deliverance.

The water she gave me was so cold it burned my thought. There was no room in her truck for me, so I lay in the back of the pickup hoping the police wouldn’t see my fatigued, dirt stained body. I had water, a seventy mile breeze, and I was finally on the way to my original destination. This was heaven. When she let me off, it was night.

By now I figured my mom was inevitably worried sick and I had my fun, so I make a sign which read ‘HOME’ and stuck out my thumb. Though I did not get a ride, two different women gave me more than fifty dollars. Combined with what I had left from Jim, this was just enough for a bus ticket. I found the Greyhound terminal, bought a ticket, and snoozed a few hours on a very, very hard bench. I awoke with a start as they called over the intercom that the bus to Salt Lake City was now boarding. I grabbed my trusty old military pack and was on the road once again…

Further Information

Travel tips: - Bring water.

- Chap stick is a must.

- Patience is king and always rewarded.

- Though people will feed you, pack your own.

- Be wary, yet give everyone the benefit of a doubt.

- Just be friendly and kind. The vibes you send out are the ones other people will give you back, so don't worry and just have fun!