1997 hitch hiking trip to family reunion
started July 20, 1997
e-mail: RSBeatty@aol.com
Adventure #1 for 1997 is over. I hitch hiked to our first Rambo family reunion in Iowa. No, the van still ran fine. I just didn't want to spend the $200 on gas to drive, nor did I want to travel alone for a couple of days, so I decided to hitch hike. Alice Moberg, my adoptive mom, dropped me off on Interstate 75 just north of Marietta. That reminded her of doing the same for her son 30 years ago.
My first ride from Marietta was with a Jehovah's witness driving a commercial truck. He left me with two questions concerning the name of God to ask my Jewish friends. Now I have answers to send him, but have misplaced his address, of course. While it is true that our conversation centered on religious issues, he agreed with my unorthodox religious views. His life and conversion made an interesting story. He had always been searching for God, but had not found him despite studying many religions. And he was dealing drugs, but that isn't what put him into prison. Apparently he got caught counterfeiting. At some point, as he was awaiting trial, he found himself on his knees praying to God for guidance. He knew that his life was really messed up and that he needed help from above. At that moment the Jehovah's Witnesses knocked on his door. They listened to him and gave him straight answers to his questions. In particular, their answers were substantial rather than mere dogma. He wasn't converted at that moment, but when he got to the pen and was reading the list of Sunday services available at the prison chapel, the Jehovah's Witnesses were there. He left me with a new resolve, "to suggest to people in crisis that they consider searching for God and bringing him into their life."
He dropped me off on the eastern edge of Columbus and it took me several rides and several miles of walking to clear the western edge of town. I remember only the ride where something went "THUNK" just as the driver was slowing to let me off. I went back to find the object to be certain that it wasn't anything his car needed. That particular spot was terrible, bad road surface, bad part of town, no oncoming traffic, too much main road traffic .. so I hiked on to the next exit. And I do remember the tattooed lady who gave me that last ride out of the city. She certainly seemed like one who lives "on the wild side." Me, I don't live there or even visit.
The interstate bypasses Dayton, and I got let off at the Dayton exit. Seems like all the traffic turned south to Dayton and it was a long wait for a ride. I did walk down the road for a while, but got to a spot too good to leave - where the shoulder was wide but narrowed beyond my spot. And the scenery was lovely. Immediately on the other side of the fence was a lovely little lake with picnic tables and shade trees and a mowed lawn. I thought of how nice the area was and how easy it would be to use my solar shower there after dark. It was an idelic spot. The only disadvantage was the ominous storm clouds above me. They turned into a big disadvantage during several short, light showers that seemed harbingers .. and were. I had just donned my rain poncho and given up hope when a well dressed man in a nice car stopped to save me from the weather. He wasn't going far, only to the airport, but dropped me at a service station where I waited out the storm. What a storm! Rain came down in sheets for twenty minutes and wind blew it horizontally entirely across the sheltered service area. According to the radio, a tornado touched down about ten miles west - right where I was going! I certainly gave my thanks to the guy who dropped me off near shelter. Forty five minutes later the rain stopped and I caught one last ride before dark.
This one was a dilly! The car was old .. as was the driver, but he was going all the way to Chicago. What luck! Marietta to Chicago in one day. It doesn't get much better than that. Also the guy was interesting. He grew up in West Virginia, moved & worked in Chicago until retirement, raised kids & got divorced, and retired back to family property in West Virginia. His kids and friends still live in Chicago, so he makes the trip to visit every so often. I got lucky. As we were passing around Indianapolis, he asked me to drive for a while. I was driving blissfully along without a concern in the world when we passed the sign that said "CHICAGO 60 miles." My immediate thought was, "Wow, that's pretty close. I wonder what my route west will be." Then I remembered the bad parts of the big city I rode through on my motorcycle 20 years earlier .. and I remembered thinking at THAT time, "What a rough area. I'd hate to be here after dark. I could get mugged at any given stop light .. even in daylight!" Fortunately there was a rest area and a good map a mile later.
The map confirmed my worst suspicions. I was already too far north. The next westward route would take me through Chicago Heights and other areas whose names appear regularly on the evening news. So I thanked my West Virginian, bid him adeu and crossed the road to hitchhike south. It is always nice to a get a refresher dose of humility. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined reaching Indianapolis in one day, so I had never planned a route beyond it.
As I approached the rest area on the south side of the road, I saw a van with emergency lights flashing in the break-down lane. Getting closer, looking for a place to sleep, I realized that the van was moving, being pushed by a couple of guys. So I pitched in and helped push .. but it was really dead and wouldn't start. The owner was a fresh, young, innocent college kid with his girlfriend. She seemed perfectly happy & comfortable, presumeably merely happy to be with him & him with her. Ah, ain't love grand. The volkswagon, on the other hand, wasn't touched. The other guys pushing were truckers and needed to get on the move and offered me a ride .. but I opened my mouth and told them that I used to work on volkswagons. So they made my ride conditional on trying to get the van running. I did try .. in the dark .. without tools or room (are they smaller now, or is it me?) We discovered that they had no spark and the points never opened. The kids said they'd call their friends 30 miles away. No problem. And the truckers drove me to old U.S. highway 24, the road upon which I expected to spend a day or two crossing Illinois. The reunion was Saturday and this was only Wednesday midnight. I bedded down between the water tower and a cornfield outside of Remington, Indiana.
Thursday was another incredible day. I expected short rides and longer waits on this lesser route. I got several. Most memorable was the ride from a cute young girl in the early morning. She was on her way to work in the nursing home. She initially passed me by, but stopped 150 yards later. I started running (with my backpack, realizing that I was out of shape) but she drove off before I reached the car. She told me that she had turned around twice after that to come back to pick me up, but had talked herself out of it the first time. Finally she decided that I was just too nice (smiling and friendly) to leave on the side of the road. I thanked her nicely and advised her against the risk of picking up strangers. She said she takes after her father who is a soft touch that way. I felt strongly inclined to give her a kiss goodbye, but did not. Twenty minutes later I found the words, "You are such a sweet young thing. You deserve a big hug and a kiss. I want you to tell your father that a hitchhiker told you that ... and suggested that he give you that hug & kiss."
I did get a long ride to Peoria that day from a parts distributor. He runs a warehouse that supplies automotive parts to parts stores. He was also religious and interested in home schooling his kids. He was early enough to drive me around Peoria and drop me on highway 116, a good road heading due west.
His "good road" was pretty dinky. But he had assured me that it carried plenty of traffic going my direction. I waved to the tree trimming crews and found the best wide spot following that construction. The next driver who picked me up seemed to be a pretty wild character. He was a construction laborer, somewhat hyper, my age with flowing long hair. He agreed that this little country route was the best route to hitchhike west to southern Iowa. He had heard that he was a descendant of the founder of Yale and wondered if his son might get a scholarship on that basis alone. Might as well try.
After he dropped me off, I thought my good luck had ended. This was outside the tiniest little hick town on a deserted little road. It was usually several minutes between cars. I resigned myself to several hours or days there and started walking. I was more than 40 miles from the Iowa border, but walking looked like my quickest way of getting there.
Miracles happen. Another driver turned around and came back to pick me up. This kid was fresh from a job interview, hoping to become involved in radio, either as a technician or a DJ. He had experience and a degree. Fat! He filled his entire half of the car. It is daunting to be in the presence of someone so massive. He's a pleasant soul and I wish him every success.
He dropped me at a corner crossroad where a little cafe stood, deserted at 11 AM. Since it was again beginning to rain, I decided to check out the cafe for lunch. Lunch was good and it surprised me to see the place fill with customers steadily for more than an hour. When the place became entirely full, I stopped writing postcards and gave up my table to the next party. (See how I get my postcards written? And do you see how the van hampers my writing?)
I left shortly after, during a brief break in the rain, and hiked to the top of the hill for a better place to hitchhike. Then the rain resumed. Again I was just getting into my rain gear when another construction worker stopped to give me a lift. Another nice guy, much younger, with girlfriend and financial problems. He drove me across the Mississippi River to Fort Madison, Iowa. I meant to give him $20 when I got out of the car, but forgot in the rush of that moment. Next time I'll get my money out earlier, when I realize I want to give it.
I did walk most of the way through Fort Madison. Fortunately it is much smaller than Columbus. Also fortunately it was not raining, merely overcast. Remember that this was July 2. Overcast is good. It keeps the sun from baking the brainbox. I had incredible good luck in that regard for this entire trip .. both to & from.
One of the appealing aspects of hitchhiking is that you meet lots of interesting characters. Yes, the next guy was one. He was a trucker, on vacation, going to the lake for July 4th. His constant travelling companion is a life-sized, stuffed chimpanzee wearing a Captain's hat and sitting on a motorcycle helmet. The chimpanzee kept falling off the helmet onto me as if in a drunken stupor. The trucker had told his wife that he was going to spend the 4th in the Ozarks fishing. She owns a house cleaning business and had a customer who insisted that her house be cleaned that weekend before her company arrived. So his wife was mad at him for leaving her on the holiday. I know all my women friends will understand and agree with her, but I don't. I agree with him. He told her. She decided her customer was more important. Too bad for her. He's going to the lake to enjoy the holiday. He did hope that she can join him after the house is clean.
When he dropped me off, I was 15 miles from Keosauqua and quite elated. The last guy who gave me a ride went to high school with one of my younger cousins. That cousin didn't make it to the reunion. He dropped me off at 4:30 PM, right in front of Laura's beauty parlor in downtown Keosauqua. What luck! .. Marietta, OH to Keosauqua, IA in a day and a half. You can't make much better time driving yourself .. and can't even get there by train, plane or bus.
The reunion exceeded our wildest hopes. Everyone had a wonderful time .. but that's another story. You had to be there.
I rode back to St. Louis with my Uncle Lawrence. Traveling with Uncle Lawrence is always wonderfully comfortable. He is just so easy to talk to while traveling. I took the MetroLink train and a bus through town to my mom's in Belleville. Two days later I rode the city bus to Fairview Heights, adjacent to interstate highway 64 east.
The return trip is easier to describe, because it was even quicker with fewer rides! True. Within minutes of getting to the entrance ramp, a relatively young man in a nice, relatively new van gave me a lift. He asked if I'd mind stopping at Sam's to look at a computer scanner. It was on sale at a good price and he bought it. He was going all the way to Vandalia, a good distance for me because it would get me to the next interchange where I needed to turn south. He was a minister (maybe an evangelist?) not affiliated with any church. He explained that the name Yaweh comes from combining the Jewish name for God which contains no vowels with a different Jewish name for God containing several. This is part of the answer to the Jehovah's Witness, ride #1. He was a nice guy and we enjoyed another pleasant religious conversation.
I have a note saying, "My longest ride of this trip was from another trucker all the way to Charleston, West Virginia." Unfortunately I no longer remember that part of the ride. I do know that I caught the bus in Belleville, Illinois around 10 AM and that it was not yet dark when that trucker dropped me off at the interchange in Charleston. There hadn't been a good spot to drop me off (because the highway was elevated,) so I was several miles past the ramp I needed. Hey, I'm not complaining. I was elated to come so far, so fast. I walked a bit looking for a good place to hitchhike.
Unfortunately there seemed to be no good way to get to the ramp I needed. I REALLY don't like walking on an elevated section of the interstate. I waited, thumbing rides, at the very spot where the elevated section started. Just as I was deciding to give up, a couple of crazy, speedy guys stopped for me. As soon as I was in the car they blasted off in a hurry to catch the car they had been following. Just as they caught up to the other car, my exit ramp came into view. They didn't want to lose them again and asked if I would tolerate a detour. Hey, sure, this was the strangest ride yet. The guy driving hadn't wanted to pick me up, but his friend, his passenger, had insisted. The detour took us to an old house in an old section of town. There the passenger disembarked and told the driver to take me back to my ramp north of town. I thought that the driver would slow down now that there was no rush, but apparently he only knows how to drive with his foot to the floor. After another rush of adrenelene he dropped me off in the dark at my ramp. And it was ideal. The ramp is lighted and curves gently uphill. Traffic isn't too fast, nor too heavy. The surrounding woods and mountains were dark and rural so that I could easily and safely bed down without fear. How nice.
But I wasn't yet tired. It had been a long and stimulating day, especially with the adrenelene flowing from that last Kamakazie ride. So I stood under the lights, on the shoulder, well off the roadway and continued thumbing until I got sleepy. I was counting "just ten more potential rides and I'll quit" when an eighteen wheeler pulled over for me. By now I was better at running with the backpack. This trucker was going right through Marietta. Home free!
Except that as we neared Ohio, the driver said he wanted to stop to get me something to eat. Then he decided he needed to stop to rest. I was beginning to wonder about him. This is not "normal" trucker behavior. We stopped at a truck stop and he parked at the back of the lot facing the neighboring porno shop. When he got into the back & undressed for bed, I volunteered to go outside to sleep. He said he didn't mind having me in the cab, other people don't worry him. I was still wondering when he started talking religion. Ah ha, he wanted to witness Christianity to me. Now his out-of-character behavior made perfect sense. We had a long, somewhat contentious dscussion because his religious views are very narrow, very specific, akin to mine when I was Southern Baptist.
The next morning he insisted on feeding me breakfast .. that truck stop is a good one; just south of Marietta. When we started driving again, I discovered that he had "gotten tired" and decided to sleep a mere 30 miles south of Marietta. I'm certain he stopped strictly in order to have an opportunity to witness to me most effectively. God Bless him. He dropped me off near the Marietta Chamber of Commerce Welcome Caboose and I walked back to Hamar Station & my adoptive parents, Jack & Alice Moberg.
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