Hitchhiking1

I hitch hiked across the country twice in the late 60's.  I probably was more successful than most (males) looking small and unthreatening.   There were also smaller trips, like Philadelphia to Boston to see a girl friend, and Chicago for the 1968 Democratic Convention.

First time was really the second half of a trip that started at friends' wedding in Gallipolis, Ohio.  Three of us got a drive away to get to the West Coast.  A drive away was a car someone wanted delivered somewhere else without having to drive it themselves.   We got the car, they got the car delivered.   We paid the gas.  They risked we'd trash it....must have been hearty insurance!  This one was the old Jeep Wagoneer.....so we got to try out 4-wheel drive in Colorado.  Here  are some vignettes from both trips:

On the West slope of the Rockies we climbed a big gravelly hillside.   It was pretty loose stuff and pretty vertical and pretty scary.   When I slid down, I wore a hole in the seat of my Jeans.

We parted company in Bakersfield, CA where I headed West to San Diego, while my friends headed up to Berkeley.   Bakersfield was hot and brown.   When I got to San Diego, it was actually La Jolla, where my dear mother-in-law Evelyn now has a condo on the beach.   I was shocked by all the green and gardening.   I knew water was not supposed to be there.  I saw and imagined the army of Mexican laborers it took to maintain this place.   It looked as if each leaf was hand placed with care to maximize its visual splendor.

I wanted to visit my college friend and Monks bandmate George Stavis who was studying philosophy at San Diege (Marcuse.)  Well I hadn't bothered to give any advance notice, so he wasn't around.   Where to stay?   Well I walked way....I mean way....I mean way way north along the beach from La Jolla and set my stuff down and built a little camp up against the cliffs.   There was a certain amount of paranoia that a cop or rich land owner would find me and bust me.   I could only get to town at low tide because at high tide the water came in and cut off my path.   I remember wondering how far I was north of La Jolla, so counted off my footsteps walking to my hideout and multiplied by what I estimated to be my stride.   This was the first time I saw those long loopy sea plants with the bulb things hooked on.

Next day I met someone on the beach.   He invited me to stay at his house.   A bed was nice.   He even trusted me to wake up after he went off to work and let myself out of the house and lock up.   How often would that happen today?

Next step, on to LA and the Bay Area.  I went to check out LA, and stayed with friend Mitchell and visited friend Bob.   Both were left activists who had migrated to LA post NYC's political crazy implosion.   I was feeling pretty positive about LA.

Next stop was Berkeley, where I visited with the friends I had shared the ride with.  I remember standing by the road at San Luis Obispo.   I've never seen a place with so many hitch hikers.  We had to kind of stand in line to take our turn on the road with our thumbs out.   Most folks were respectful, but a few did try to cheat into line.

I don't remember much about Berkeley, except that the feeling was pretty political "heavy" as in NYC.

Next to Portland, where I stayed with NYC expatriots Liz and Richard.   I remember being taken to a hot spring in the woods near Portland.   The hot spring ran through "pipes" made of hollowed out logs into a hollowed out log bath tub.   Each tub was in a little sheltered kind of closet which was closed and private to the public side from which people entered through a door, but open to the woods on the back side.  The water was so hot, we had to run down to a cold spring with a bucket to to get cold water to cool off the hot water we had let in to our "tub."   I remember when I got out, I felt like soft rubber, and didn't feel the cold for about ten minutes.

How did I eat on the trip?   My budget for the entire trip was $250.   I carried a bag of rice and some onions and a bottle of hot sauce.   That was my supper every night.  I usually managed to get to a camp site and cooked over a fire.  I had a little hatchet.   Boy it was a struggle to cut wood with a hatchet!   Sometimes I was desperate and picked uneaten food off peoples' plates in restaurants.   I wasn't worried health wise.  I was a big believer in immune being more important than infection.   I was worried about being seen and embarrassed.

There are a lot of lost souls out there on the road.   I remember one I met in a far west state, driving an old jalopy.   About a half hour after picking me up, he confessed he needed money for gas.   I pitched in.

I ended up in Yellowstone as snow closed in.  I was a bit paranoid of bears and scared of freezing.   So I found a closed up cabin, where I jimmied up the window and slept "indoors" that night.  For some reason I was also incredbly paranoid of getting busted and sent to jail for breaking into the cabin.   Next morning I stood in the sleet and was picked up by two guys who taught mining engineering.   They took me to Jackson's Hole.

Here I had my most difficult hitchhike. I stood on the hot dusty road going east out of Jackson's Hole.   It was hours and nobody picked me up.   I did get "adopted" by some teenagers who thought it was really fun to ride past me and throw rocks at me out of the car.....repeatedly.

And then came the cop.   He said "no hitch hiking."   I asked, "Where's the bus?"   He said a forty mile walk east.   Wow!   He said, Get walking. Stay on the left side of the road.  If I catch you hitch hiking I'll throw you in jail.   Well after a half hour of walking, an Oldsmobile convertible passed me and pulled off the road.  "Do you need a ride?"  "You bet."  In the car were three more lost souls.   The driver was a young guy who worked on oil rigs.   His girl friend had left him and gone back to live with her parents in Rapid City.   He was on a quest to get her back.   (Seemed like he would probably also lose his job on this quest. for being off work.)   Along in the passenger seat was his sister.   She was there for moral support.  That seemed pretty sweet.  In the back seat with me was a young native american boy.   He lived in Canada, but one night got stoned on pot, drove across the US border, picked up two guys, who ended up stealing his car.   Then without papers, etc, he ended up in an American jail for 6 months.   He had just gotten out.   His parents had no idea where he was.   I gave him a dime to call his girl friend.  He was totally home sick.

Did I mention that there were quantities of beer being consumed, empty beer cans flying backwards out the open car.   Turned out the young man was expecting a fight with the father of the girl friend when he got to Rapid City.   It was clear to me that the price of admission to this ride was to back him up in this fight.   What could I do?   Well we finally got to Rapid City.   Drove around the suburbs looking for the girl friend house.   (I was really not spoiling for a fight.)  Well whether it was memory, or the alcohol talking, but we never found the house.   I finally got out of the car after dark on the main east west highway through Rapid City.   This was my first night finding a park to sleep in.   I lay my sleeping bag down next to this interstate.   When I woke up I was covered with snow.  That was it.   I threw in the towel on that trip.   Called the airport for a flight home.  I had $200 for the plane, $10.00 for the taxi to the airport and arrived in JFK airport dead broke.   I couldn't even get a subway.   Irene, my girl friend, had to come and get me.   Still it was a great trip.

To my kids:   DON'T DO THIS.   That was a different time and place, especially regarding hitch hiking!!!!