Thumbing ride comes with a hitch
by Aryn Corley
Recently I was driving through the beautiful back roads of East Texas admiring the flora, the fauna, and the occasional dumped appliance.
More importantly, I was late for work. As I sped along, I noticed a man standing on the side of the road with his thumb held out.
The sight reminded me of a recently published article in Psychology Today which reported the results of a study by a French psychologist who found that women with larger chest sizes have an easier time finding rides when hitchhiking.
I wonder why that is? The most interesting thing for me is the idea that French psychologists actually get paid for measuring stuff like that.
Maybe I should have been a French psychologist.
The guy looked haggard and beleaguered from the heat. After all, the heat index had risen to a balmy 275 degrees. He had an overstuffed backpack laying at his feet and probably smelled like he'd just been to a Grateful Dead concert. If Where's Waldo and Grizzly Adams had a kid, it would look like this guy.
The man was a hitchhiker. He needed to get somewhere.
Feeling sorry for the dude, I pulled over. He heaved up his bag on his shoulder and started toward my truck. As he wearily trudged toward me, I began to remember all the things I was ever told about hitchhikers.
Whether the stories are true, or urban legends, there is a kind of mystique that surrounds those who, for one reason or another, travel the country with reckless abandon, allowing themselves to be placed at the mercy of complete strangers.
In popular culture, hitchhikers hold an iconic status. They embody our freedom of movement and self-determination. Whether it's Jack Kerouac's classic book titled “On the Road,” Janis Joplin's edgy vocals on “Me and Bobby McGee,” or Rutger Hauer's disturbing performance in “The Hitcher,” hitchhiking has become synonymous with adventure.
When I hear the word “hitchhiker,” I almost always think of a Ford Prefect and Zaphod Beeblebrox from “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.”
Stories from urban lore tell about nefarious hitchhikers who wish nothing more than to wreak havoc on naive drivers. There's the story about the guy who stopped to pick up a hitchhiker, then changed his mind after hearing a radio report about a “hook-handed” homicidal maniac. When the man arrived home, he was quite shocked to find, hanging from his door handle, a hook!
Then there's the other story about the girl who asks for a ride home, only to have the driver discover she'd vanished. I've had women vanish themselves from my car before and it's a real bummer.
Once, I thought it would be a good idea to try hitchhiking from London to Paris. Since both towns are in Texas, I figured it would be easy.
Yeah, right.
I stood out on the side of US 377 for many hours. Cars sped past me without giving me a second glance. There was something about me which was making me less attractive for pick-up. Although, I must say the Border Patrol agent who interrogated me for several hours was a really nice fellow.
Finally coming to my senses, I decided not to give the guy a ride and sped away, leaving the hitchhiker on the side of the road in a cloud of dust and scattered gravel.
As I looked in the rear view mirror, I saw him cursing me loudly and violently waving his hook in the air.
It suddenly dawned on me why I decided not to pick him up.
His chest was too small.
