True Story©… Hiking Hitches


     For someone who really doesn’t like human beings very much, I sure do know a whole damn lot of people.  Or people know what I look like, I should say…

     Respondent to my company’s generous leave time allowances and given the time none of us were able to take off last year, they also extended the rollover policy to allow us to not lose hours this year.  The problem behind that is now I have another year with the Rona to try and figure out how to burn like 39 paid days off working instead of 31 while still not really leaving the house.  This while also navigating 50/50 custody of my child and absolutely needing to be in this house while school is in session.
Needless to say, I don’t get out much.  But I do take a lot of Mondays and/or Fridays off in order to enjoy three-day weekends and engage in my good ol shenanigous dipshittery.

     One such instance, I decided among myselves that I would test a theory and see if hitchhiking was still a thing in 2021, especially during the Rona.  Why, you ask?  Because I literally live less than two miles – walking distance – from the onramps of three interstate highways through my state/city.

     Monday, I went to the furthest from the house with my mind on not being seen by my wife or anyone who might tell my ex wife that woman I had a wedding with once.  Around 25 minutes later, I am sitting on the barrier alongside I-85 with my oldest, rattiest, backpack with my thumb up at anyone who passes on the highway or coming down the onramp.  I was out there for an HOUR with no takers, which sucks really because I had on my fucking mask!  After that hour, though?  A familiar car comes from the direction of my house and my cousin rolls down the window, “boy get in this fucking car!”
Defeated, I got in.

Cuz: “Man, what in the shit are you doing?”

Me: *singing* “I gotta get away…”

Cuz: “You ain’t Bobby Brown.  Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?”

Me: “Man, I dunno.  Sowing my spirit of adventure?”

Cuz: “And trying to get sold into sex slavery in the process?”

Me: “If you recall, I tried to sell myself into sex work in Vegas last year.”

Cuz: “Don’t start that True Story© shit on me.”

Me: “Heh”

Cuz: “So where were you going?”

Me: “As far as whoever picked me up would take me.”

Cuz: “Well lookathere.  You got your wish.”

Me: “Wait…  What?  This is my house.”

Cuz: “I know.  [redacted] from [old job] told me your silly ass was out there.  She saw it was you even with the mask.  I dunno if anyone has told your wife.”

Me: “Well…  Here we go.”

     No one had told her.  She had finished her day’s work and knocked off for a nap, apparently assuming I had gone off for a run or something since I had not taken my car.
I did not wake her.  Instead, I went back to the drawing board.  I got a different mask and went on another walk.  Now I am sitting on the barricade at the onramp to 29.  This is infinitely more likely to get me caught as this is the closest one to the house and most of my family lives close around me already.  Maybe the fact that everyone should have their asses at work will get me out of this quickly.
Five cars passed me, one was cop and I almost panicked and went home because I didn’t want him to stop and murder me in the face.  Car number six passed by a bit, like by about 50 yards and turned on their flashers.  I started walking toward it and just as I got near the door, the sonofabitch peeled off!  Defeated, I went back to my perch on the barricade, where there was a little old lady in a big old Lincoln waiting, apparently having seen what had just happened.

Lady: “How rude!”

Me: “That’s people out here on these roads.”

Lady: “Where are you headed.”

Me: “Far as you can take me?”

Lady: “Well I am going north, almost to Browns Summit.  Is that okay?”

Me: “It’s a start, and I can thumb it from there.”

Lady: “Can I ask a question?”

Me: “You can ask, sure.”

Lady: “What are you getting away from?”

[Phlip note: FUCK, I’m on the spot!]

Me: “Everything, I guess.”

Lady: “Is it really that bad?”

Me: “Been watching the news?”

Lady: “That stuff just makes you sad for no reason.”

Me: “Sure, and missing it makes you uninformed.”

Lady: “Well I have something for that.”

Me: “Weed?  Lemme find out you’re a flower child.”

Lady: “No, of course not.  I left that in the 60s when I started having kids.”

Me: “Disappointing.”

She had gotten to an offramp and was braking.  Now she was reaching into the glovebox.

Lady: “I got this.  I knew something was telling me to stop and talk to you.”

Me: “What’s that?”

Lady: “Here you go!”

It was a Watchtower Tract, y’all.  Now she has put the car in park and wants to TALK talk.

Me: “I’m sorry ma’am…  I was raised Mormon.”

[Phlip note: I was not raised Mormon, but a Mormon once told me that the way to get rid of Jehova’s Witnesses was to tell them you are]

She peeled off like the asshole had done me the first time.

     So here I am…  Still only about 8 miles from the onramp I started on, that being only about a mile from my front door.  The danger now is that I am close to where my wife’s family, school friends and coworkers happen to live.  I need to move quick.
I cross over the main street and walk halfway down the onramp and post up with my thumb out to every car that passes with the exception of the three state troopers that did since I’d heard several from my state were under investigation for involvement in the Coup Clutz Clan rally in Washington last week and didn’t want to become a statistic.

     30 minutes.  I was on that onramp for 30 minutes…  I should have brought Shaggy Dog with me.  People LOVE people with cute dogs in tow.
I was just about to say fuck it and get a Lyft home when a car stops about 20 feet from me.  I walked up to the car and opened the back door (social distancing, y’all!) when I heard the unmistakable horn of my own car from behind me.
I look up and it is my wife motioning for me to get in.  I thanked the driver and went to the car and got in.

     My lawyer tells me that this is the part where I stop telling this story until the case has been properly handled in court.


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