I can't think of a worse way to travel if I'm honest
Its probably the quickest way to get raped and killed is another poignant thought
Every time I've seen hitch-hikers I wonder if that's the last time another group of human beings will see them alive.
The one story I have is a friend of mine who used to drive lorries told me he would pick them up all the time, he got a handjob off a Dutch girl once for his kindness, told his friends at work and one of them grassed him up and he was sacked for having a non-employee in the cab of his vehicle. No mention of the handjob from his employers, just the fact he had a random in the cab and it was against company policy/invalidated their insurance
I hitch hiked round New Zealand. Not sure I would in this country. I met some really decent and friendly people. No real stories, was obliquely chatted up by a gay electrician. Didn't really put it together until after I got out.
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
I hitch hiked round New Zealand. Not sure I would in this country. I met some really decent and friendly people. No real stories, was obliquely chatted up by a gay electrician. Didn't really put it together until after I got out.
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
The best stories though, are the ones where I pull up a fair old way down the road, wait for em to pick all their gear up, rucksack, guitar, dog etc., wait for em to run up to within about a meter form my motor and I pull away. It's an oldun, I know, but it is really funny
Hitch hiked for the first time in Oz and the first peopl to pick me up were true hillbilly’s. Hitched in NZ a lot, loved travelling and meeting people. Never felt threatened.
Travelled in a road train in Oz which was an experience. One bloke asked me if I could mind his car in NZ after knowing me about 30 mins whilst he dropped something off at his daughters as he could not find anywhere to park so I sat in the drivers seat with the engine running. Got chatted up by a Maori girl. Got pissed with about 7 youngsters, dropping off for dinner with one of their families (fortunately the driver was not drinking)
Indirectly I hitched out of Compton in LA which was also an experience and definitely one I would not recommend!
Gave a lift to couple of new age traveler types a couple of years ago. Both French and the bloke was a promoter of reggae and Mongolian throat festivals, he said they were on their was to a meeting regarding a festival they were organising. Obviously, when he said throat music, I didn't have a clue what he was talking about, so they both gave me a (bad) demonstration. It was hilarious....
Mongolian throat music and how it should be done, which I actually don't mind -
I hitch hiked round New Zealand. Not sure I would in this country. I met some really decent and friendly people. No real stories, was obliquely chatted up by a gay electrician. Didn't really put it together until after I got out.
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
I need an hour to write about the time I got on the back of a Harley getting off a ferry from the South Island of New Zealand to the North and ended up getting a dinner at the Headquarters of a well known biker gang called Highway 61.
In fact I probably shouldn’t. I often give thanks that I am still alive to tell the tale. It’s a proper story.
I did most of my hitchhiking in the late '80s and early '90s, beginning with practice runs in this country, travelling to see friends, often getting to my destination quicker than public transport. I rarely used signs on cardboard but once achieved instant success, joining the end of a queue of hitchers, with my sign reading 'Last hitcher before motorway', a motorist passing all of them and stopping for me, much to the annoyance of those hitchers who'd been there far longer than I had.
In the years that followed, I hitched from San Francisco to New York, accepting an offer a bed for the night in Salt Lake City from a Mormon mother of eight and later taking a 1000 mile lift from a Columbian lorry driver who spoke no English and who was arrested (soon after released) at a weigh station for previous driving offences.
I also spent two months in 1991 hitchhiking around Europe, starting near Sevenoaks and travelling through France, Switzerland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Germany, etc and ending back at my parents' back door with only my ferry fare paid for. Hitching around Eastern Europe then was wonderful - the characters, the small villages, the hospitality (I stayed in the homes of a few people who'd stopped for me) and I miss those days of unplanned, youthful travel in a world far removed from home.
I've relived those days a little over the years, hitching a lift in S-E Asia, S America, Morocco when let down by public transport and even had a go this summer, beating the bus when hitching from Armenia into Georgia.
Hitchhiked all over uk and a fair bit on the continent too, when I was in my early 20s
I always think it taught me how to adapt to other people - face to face anyway. You can be in a car with an old hippy one minute and then a businessman in suit and tie the next. You need to be able to make them feel comfortable and at ease in your presence.
Hitchhiked back to my flat after a uni night out once - very strange experience.
After finishing our usual Monday night of binge drinking and grabbing a kebab, myself and two mates tried to book a taxi home but none were availble for the next hour. As we were only around 3.5 miles away I thought we’d be able to walk it easily before a taxi could get us and we’d just hold out our thumb to any taxi that drove past on the way... or so I thought.
We had only been walking for about 5 minutes, sticking our thumbs out every time we heard a car approach when this old Rover estate screeched to a halt. It hadn’t crossed our minds that we might be picked up by someone who wasn’t a taxi driver and we weren’t ones to turn down a good story so we ran towards the car.
It was a scruffy women in her mid-late 50s, the back seats of the car were down I can only imagine she probably slept in it. Anyway, both my mates bottled it and suggested I should sit in the front with her whilst they pulled the seats up in the back. After a couple seconds of thumbling around trying to lift up the seats the women jumped out the car and told the “useless cunts” to let her do it. Maybe we should’ve got out and walked at this point?
The drive was interesting, she accelerated quickly and broke hard constantly, it was very erratic but the chat was more so. I can’t remember the full details but she was explaining how she was on the run from the British police and most of Europe’s police force for smuggling goods into the country (she wouldn’t say what goods) - her main tactic was to drive in between two lorries when she saw police so they wouldn’t see her (no idea what that meant!).
Once we were nearly home we directed her to a car park she could drop us off at, she sped in and slammed the breaks down. All of us slightly shitting ourselves so we asked her if she’d like any money for her kindness - it was a straight “No.” Then we thanked her the lift and asked her what her name was and she bellowed “YOU CAN CALL ME DRAGON LADDDYYYYYY!!!” and with that, we jumped out the car whilst she sped to the end of the car park, did a 180, aimed the car towards us at full acceleration and then swerved towards the exit of the car park never to be seen again.
Nobody believed us when we got back to our flat, very surreal. 10/10, would do again.
never hitched & as a car drivrr of 30 years never picked anyone up. Seen loads on the M2 & M20 with cardboard signs for Dover & I have always thought "why ?". Have you not got £15 for a train ticket. Are you THAT poor ?? if so, sell your bloody guitar /dog / girlfriend and do what 99.9% of the population does & pay for a fecking ticket.
I need an hour to write about the time I got on the back of a Harley getting off a ferry from the South Island of New Zealand to the North and ended up getting a dinner at the Headquarters of a well known biker gang called Highway 61.
In fact I probably shouldn’t. I often give thanks that I am still alive to tell the tale. It’s a proper story.
I remember hearing a story about how several members of that biker gang were found suffering from headlocks.
I hitch hiked round New Zealand. Not sure I would in this country. I met some really decent and friendly people. No real stories, was obliquely chatted up by a gay electrician. Didn't really put it together until after I got out.
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
You should have told him he had got his wires crossed
I hitch hiked round New Zealand. Not sure I would in this country. I met some really decent and friendly people. No real stories, was obliquely chatted up by a gay electrician. Didn't really put it together until after I got out.
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
never hitched & as a car drivrr of 30 years never picked anyone up. Seen loads on the M2 & M20 with cardboard signs for Dover & I have always thought "why ?". Have you not got £15 for a train ticket. Are you THAT poor ?? if so, sell your bloody guitar /dog / girlfriend and do what 99.9% of the population does & pay for a fecking ticket.
but keep the stories coming.....
With sensitivity and open mindedness like this I'm at a complete loss as to why it's an epic battle for you to get your end away!
In my younger days (late 60s, early 70s) I hitchhiked all over Europe and did a bit on US west coast and western Canada .. I never had much trouble (other than an irate native Canadian pointing his rifle at me and admonishing me for taking a piss by the roadside, he didn't shoot) I met a lot of generous people, covered a lot of miles and saw some wonderful as well as tedious places .. I found it best to go with the flow and only have a vague idea of where you're headed otherwise trying to meet a deadline can be 'stressful'
I suspect that hitchhiking today is a totally different thing. Reality and perceptions in society have radically changed. I have not seen a hiker on the UK roads for years when at one time it was a commonplace. We have nothing to fear but fear itself .. who said that ? .. Anyway I would not have wanted my now well grown daughter to go hitchhiking when she was younger .. my sons, well both had cars at an early age and plenty of cash .. spoilt brats but I luv em ((:>)
We (me and Mrs H) had to run for a bus which we missed, this was in New Jersey. Anyway a couple offered to take us to our destination (5 miles away), so we accepted their kind offer....no 'exciting' ending, they just dropped us off where we wanted to go, probably the last (and only time) I've ever got into a complete strangers car.
When I was 14-18 hitching was my main mode of travel for anything more than a few miles. My mates and I would sometimes have weekend hitching competitions. Start Friday to be back Monday. Who went furthest wins. Prove distance by sending a postcard, so results took a few days to confirm. I never went outside the UK but the best was a mate who got to Turin. Back then, 60s@70s, it was easy to get a ride. Happy days.
Comments
Its probably the quickest way to get raped and killed is another poignant thought
Every time I've seen hitch-hikers I wonder if that's the last time another group of human beings will see them alive.
The one story I have is a friend of mine who used to drive lorries told me he would pick them up all the time, he got a handjob off a Dutch girl once for his kindness, told his friends at work and one of them grassed him up and he was sacked for having a non-employee in the cab of his vehicle. No mention of the handjob from his employers, just the fact he had a random in the cab and it was against company policy/invalidated their insurance
Was bored to death by a homeopathic/herbal medicine advocate, but she was a generous and good hearted person. Basically the general quota of cunts in NZ is lower than in the SE/London. When I tried here when I was younger, twenty plus years ago, you could guarantee some abuse. Didn't get any in NZ.
The best stories though, are the ones where I pull up a fair old way down the road, wait for em to pick all their gear up, rucksack, guitar, dog etc., wait for em to run up to within about a meter form my motor and I pull away. It's an oldun, I know, but it is really funny
Travelled in a road train in Oz which was an experience. One bloke asked me if I could mind his car in NZ after knowing me about 30 mins whilst he dropped something off at his daughters as he could not find anywhere to park so I sat in the drivers seat with the engine running. Got chatted up by a Maori girl. Got pissed with about 7 youngsters, dropping off for dinner with one of their families (fortunately the driver was not drinking)
Indirectly I hitched out of Compton in LA which was also an experience and definitely one I would not recommend!
Mongolian throat music and how it should be done, which I actually don't mind -
They sounded more like a couple of frogs (the amphibians) with soar throats
I bet you could feel the electricity between you.
In fact I probably shouldn’t. I often give thanks that I am still alive to tell the tale. It’s a proper story.
I did most of my hitchhiking in the late '80s and early '90s, beginning with practice runs in this country, travelling to see friends, often getting to my destination quicker than public transport. I rarely used signs on cardboard but once achieved instant success, joining the end of a queue of hitchers, with my sign reading 'Last hitcher before motorway', a motorist passing all of them and stopping for me, much to the annoyance of those hitchers who'd been there far longer than I had.
In the years that followed, I hitched from San Francisco to New York, accepting an offer a bed for the night in Salt Lake City from a Mormon mother of eight and later taking a 1000 mile lift from a Columbian lorry driver who spoke no English and who was arrested (soon after released) at a weigh station for previous driving offences.
I also spent two months in 1991 hitchhiking around Europe, starting near Sevenoaks and travelling through France, Switzerland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Germany, etc and ending back at my parents' back door with only my ferry fare paid for. Hitching around Eastern Europe then was wonderful - the characters, the small villages, the hospitality (I stayed in the homes of a few people who'd stopped for me) and I miss those days of unplanned, youthful travel in a world far removed from home.
I've relived those days a little over the years, hitching a lift in S-E Asia, S America, Morocco when let down by public transport and even had a go this summer, beating the bus when hitching from Armenia into Georgia.
I always think it taught me how to adapt to other people - face to face anyway. You can be in a car with an old hippy one minute and then a businessman in suit and tie the next. You need to be able to make them feel comfortable and at ease in your presence.
After finishing our usual Monday night of binge drinking and grabbing a kebab, myself and two mates tried to book a taxi home but none were availble for the next hour. As we were only around 3.5 miles away I thought we’d be able to walk it easily before a taxi could get us and we’d just hold out our thumb to any taxi that drove past on the way... or so I thought.
We had only been walking for about 5 minutes, sticking our thumbs out every time we heard a car approach when this old Rover estate screeched to a halt. It hadn’t crossed our minds that we might be picked up by someone who wasn’t a taxi driver and we weren’t ones to turn down a good story so we ran towards the car.
It was a scruffy women in her mid-late 50s, the back seats of the car were down I can only imagine she probably slept in it. Anyway, both my mates bottled it and suggested I should sit in the front with her whilst they pulled the seats up in the back. After a couple seconds of thumbling around trying to lift up the seats the women jumped out the car and told the “useless cunts” to let her do it. Maybe we should’ve got out and walked at this point?
The drive was interesting, she accelerated quickly and broke hard constantly, it was very erratic but the chat was more so. I can’t remember the full details but she was explaining how she was on the run from the British police and most of Europe’s police force for smuggling goods into the country (she wouldn’t say what goods) - her main tactic was to drive in between two lorries when she saw police so they wouldn’t see her (no idea what that meant!).
Once we were nearly home we directed her to a car park she could drop us off at, she sped in and slammed the breaks down. All of us slightly shitting ourselves so we asked her if she’d like any money for her kindness - it was a straight “No.” Then we thanked her the lift and asked her what her name was and she bellowed “YOU CAN CALL ME DRAGON LADDDYYYYYY!!!” and with that, we jumped out the car whilst she sped to the end of the car park, did a 180, aimed the car towards us at full acceleration and then swerved towards the exit of the car park never to be seen again.
Nobody believed us when we got back to our flat, very surreal. 10/10, would do again.
never hitched & as a car drivrr of 30 years never picked anyone up. Seen loads on the M2 & M20 with cardboard signs for Dover & I have always thought "why ?". Have you not got £15 for a train ticket. Are you THAT poor ?? if so, sell your bloody guitar /dog / girlfriend and do what 99.9% of the population does & pay for a fecking ticket.
but keep the stories coming.....
I suspect that hitchhiking today is a totally different thing. Reality and perceptions in society have radically changed. I have not seen a hiker on the UK roads for years when at one time it was a commonplace. We have nothing to fear but fear itself .. who said that ? .. Anyway I would not have wanted my now well grown daughter to go hitchhiking when she was younger .. my sons, well both had cars at an early age and plenty of cash .. spoilt brats but I luv em ((:>)
My mates and I would sometimes have weekend hitching competitions. Start Friday to be back Monday. Who went furthest wins. Prove distance by sending a postcard, so results took a few days to confirm.
I never went outside the UK but the best was a mate who got to Turin.
Back then, 60s@70s, it was easy to get a ride.
Happy days.