Here is a rather long story about hitch-hiking from Indiana to Seattle. Something I'd never done before. You can publish it if you like (perhaps in parts?). You may have seen a couple pictures from this on my website? On the Road Written 05/27/99 Revised 01/19/00 Prologue (On the Tracks) It all started in May 1997 when, a couple weeks before graduation, a roommate, Tim, came into my room and asked me if I wanted to hop a train? A couple hours later, and after numerous rounds of Bridge waiting for a darn train, we jumped a moving box-car with an open door (not a good idea) as it slowed down around a curve and after a short, but fun ride, landed in the Elkhart train yard where our car was detached and shunted (an "exciting" process which ended in our open box car turning into a closed box car with a jolting BANG!). Within two weeks, I hopped three trains, once travelling for four hours (from Goshen, Indiana to Anderson, Indiana). I'd never done it before and have never done it since. Not getting caught and not personally getting hurt (jumping off a moving train caused mild injuries to two of my other co-passengers) has encouraged me to explore other transportation alternatives. The only book I know in existence about train hopping is The Freight-Hoppers Manual for North America by Daniel Leon (available by special order I think at Amazon.com - not easy to find!), and I highly recommend it. In December of 1998, I read Jack Kerouac's On the Road (highly recommended). It's a veritable manifesto for packing a bag and hitting the road. Before setting out I read two biographical books on folk (or topical) singer Phil Ochs. He was one of the most movement-oriented (civil rights / Vietnam) singers of the sixties and seventies, and extremely dedicated. I also read Hitchhiking in America by Dale Carpenter (highly recommended), so that I'd know what to do. The university kicked me out of my graduate apartment to put in nice carpeting (whee!), so I decided to go home and then spend the summer volunteering for SEAC (Student Environmental Action Coalition) in the Philadelphia national office. Never having hitch-hiked (not even a short five-minute ride), with much trepidation, I set out to travel from Indiana to my Vancouver home. It's rather embarrassing, but I should admit that I sold out my anti-materialist values and bought a GPS unit (so that I wouldn't get lost and to encourage me to hop trains - it's very easy to get lost hopping trains). Garmin III with a built-in-map if you really must know. If anyone wants to buy a used Garmin III - email me. I also bought a road atlas which was a very good idea. The Story Starts Here 05.17 (a.k.a. May 17, 1999) N41 '42 W86 '14 Today I had to move out of my room and clean it (and the house) by 5:00pm. I got out before 6pm without hassle, though it was extremely stressful trying to go through all of my possessions, sort, toss, donate, recycle(!), ship, and find places to store the ones I wanted to keep. The day before I drank pineapple juice instead of eating breakfast or lunch and ran off the excitement energy of moving. About a week ago I'd emailed Goshen College (my alma mater) friends Bryce and Thomas saying that I'd show up on this day, so they kind of expected me but being busy with projects of their own they didn't know what to think. I got a ride from my grandparents (originally I was planning to hitch-hike to give that a trial run before setting out on a large journey, but I needed to store some stuff with them), ate supper with them in their apartment in Goshen (N 41 '34.092 W 85 '48.901), talked (they somehow assumed I was flying home, but didn't ask me the date -- I thought it was best that they not worry about me so I remained mute), and then around 10pm got a ride to where Thomas, Bryce, and Jessica Smucker were staying (house-sitting an 19th century house where a former GC professor of mine, Jo-Ann Brandt, lived - N 41 '34.764 W 85 '49.773). Thomas eventually showed up and we talked a bit randomly (as Thomas normally is) and then I saw Bryce next morning. 05.18 I talked to Bryce and Wendell (N 41 '34.785 W85 '49.745 -- who had finished his final exam) today. Since Bryce and Thomas are very busy with independent term projects (making a film and doing a photography portfolio respectively), I decided to leave the next morning on the Great Adventure. Spent a lot of time figuring out how to organise and work my new backpack. I was very glad to learn that my sleeping bag fits (barely) into the lower compartment of my backpack. Talked to Jessica about hitch-hiking as her brother, Matt (whom I'd last seen throwing blood on the Pentagon), hitched frequently (and that very next day was going from MN to IA). 05.19 I slept in, took a shower, finished packing my bag. As agreed yesterday I called Wendell and he gave me a ride to the closest toll road entrance. The Bristol entrance was around 15 miles away. I arrived after 1:00pm. I had a sign that said 'WEST' made-up of a piece of paper on pizza box, a little string, in black felt. I started off trying to get a ride from the cars coming from the South, before the actual entrance to the toll road (and safely out of sight of the toll road employee(s) - N 41 '44.267 W 85 '47.804 taken at 1:30pm). My visibility and traffic was good and there was a nice shoulder for cars (or trucks) to pull off, before they made the turn into the toll road entrance. The disadvantages of the location were that most of the traffic (75%+) wasn't going on the toll road, so I was thumbing a lot of vehicles who wouldn't even consider picking me up. Also I was missing all the vehicles (perhaps 1/3 of the total) who were coming from the North. Regardless of those factors I was offered a ride within four minutes of starting!!! That was extremely encouraging. However since the person was going on Michigan 12 (an East-West two laner) I turned them down and changed my sign to "WEST TOLLROAD". Later on I was offered two other rides by people going north, who must have not read my sign (?) so I refused them. After over an hour and a half of no luck, I wandered over to the turnpike, but was told by an employee to stay off it. So I took up my courage and hitched a couple hundred feet in front of the entrance (N 41 '44.329 W 85 '47.693 3:33pm). Visibility was decent (not the best since drivers were driving at a 90 degree angle), the shoulder was fair (traffic had to slow anyways for the toll booth), and I'd maximised the number of drivers that saw me. After not too long (half an hour or so), a trucker pulled over. To my great joy he was going to Wisconsin (!!!), and since he looked 'ok' I hopped in. I'd waited about 2 hours and a quarter. We took the long route (an extra 30 miles or so) to avoid the Chicago rush hour. We went West until 39 and then North to Rockford to rejoin 90. By 8pm we were at N 41 '43.424 W 89 '00.424, stopped at a random truck stop in nowhere particular. We stopped once since their was a scales ahead for the trucker to update his logbook (there's a big fine if they check and you aren't current), and another time to find something related to paying gas. The trucker was probably in his early 30s. He had been driving since Long Island and was going to near the Twin Cities, right on the Wisconsin / Minnesota border. His truck was a bit smaller than the typical semi, and he said there was more money in driving smaller trucks. There were six packs of Marlboros on the dash. Tapes and papers and pop bottles and more strewn around. He said the last trucker had left it a mess. Self-described as crazy. He listened to heavy metal and comedy tapes (some Eddie Murphy and other material that was generally crude with lots of swearing). Though interestingly one of the tapes we listened to was by an alternative Christian band, which he had a friend in who was dying (and in a wheel chair). He enjoyed making snide crude remarks on the CB. Had a small pin-up calendar (naked women) by the dash. He was from LA and half-Mexican (on his mom's side), had been stabbed six times - probably because as he related, he would go on drinking binges and spend all his money and get too violent for his friends when he went home. His main goal was to drive trucks until he was rich. He claimed girlfriends in every state he frequently drove to and used his cellular phone to talk to two friends and to get a date from a sister of one of his best friend (an African American - more proof that he was willing to transcend racial barriers). He wasn't allowed to drive in California due to a prior accident and mentioned that some drivers deserved to get hit for their poor driving (we did have one or two vehicles pull in front of us rather dangerously). He'd been driving a couple years and didn't own the rig. He had hitch-hiked before and that, combined with a general fearlessness, must have been why he picked me up. He offered me what he called a 'speed pill', from a small container of them. While cleaning up the truck he got me to throw out the window some used drug paraphenalia which he said his brother, a pot-head, had used last week in the truck. He was generous and offered me a meal, though I said I wasn't that hungry and had some food (as I did). He also tried to get me (and a person he was calling on his cellular) to take a trucking job, as he or his company had a rig that needed a driver and he was moderately persuaded that trucking was a good profession (perhaps the money was the good in it). He appeared to be a little nervous agitated, like he was on some kind of substance to stay awake. But I never saw him take anything and he did a fine job driving. Except for the stops (one to fill up with gas) we kept going and did a good speed (a little over the limit). It was tempting to stay with him through Wisconsin, as we would have arrived around Eau-Claire in the wee hours of the morning, and it was great luck getting a good ride as my first one, but I decided to chance it and got let off in Rockford, Illinois to surprise visit a friend. At 9:40pm he left me off at the first exit after we rejoined 90/94 (N 42 '16.255 W88 57.829). Turns out the next exit would have been about a mile closer. I walked about 4 miles. I was in a t-shirt and long pants, but sweating because it was a lot of work carrying the backpack, especially up hills. I didn't have a map, so I used the GPS unit to figure out how far I was and relied on memory to guess where to turn. Fortunately I found the roads where I needed them. Krista's house was actually 500 feet away from the predicted geocoded location, but I was able to find it by its address (reading mailboxes in the dark with the illumination of the Garmin III unit). I arrived at her house at 10:55 (N 42 18.392 W 88 55.553). She wasn't home, but showed up later. The most funny thing was that she'd actually passed me while I was walking to her place, hadn't recognised me (it was very dark) but had joked to her friends that it might be me since I was hitching home! I decided to try the northern route through Canada, hoping to swing up to Winnipeg and see a number of large Canadian cities and provinces that I hadn't seen before. I slept on a comfortable couch and washed my hair (all of this time hitching I looked like a pretty "straight" kid - except for the beard). 05.20 I replaced my three bottle 1.5 L water system, with a 1L bottle to save weight. That morning Krista gave me a ride to the nearer toll road entrance on her way to work. At 11:59am I was at N 42 19.176 W 88 57.737. I was at the entrance to the toll road going North / South. It was an automatic toll road, so there weren't any employees to see me. There was a lot of traffic, good visibility (I stood right in front of the no hitch-hiking sign), and a decent shoulder. Though the area (suburbia / midwest) might have been bad for getting rides. I did see three police cars, one of which went by me and then did a turn around and headed at me at full speed! They must have had a call or something since they didn't bother me. I acted nonchalant at first (looking at the ground, stopped holding out my thumb) when I saw them, to prevent directly antagonising them. It took a long time to get a ride. I think I was offered a short distance ride (or two?) which I refused. Eventually I was rather fed-up of standing outside (it was warm and I was getting a bit thirsty but with a nice wind), and I did have a bit of a sun-burn from the previous day so I took the next ride which was with two guys after having waited a little over two hours. For a while I was wondering if I would still be there when Krista was done with work! I was still not sure how viable hitch-hiking was as a form of travel. I had doubts that I would make it, expecting that it was more likely that I would give-up and take the next Greyhound to Philadelphia from somewhere a little West of Indiana. I got a 'seat' in the back of a mini-van with a dog and a rusty bike. They didn't go that far, just into Wisconsin. We didn't talk much. It was the only time I was picked up by two people. They gave me some Mc D french fries which were good. At 2:30pm we arrived at N 42 31.586 W 88 58.662 just over the border near Beloit. Hmm… I'm forgetting one of my rides here I think, at least the 'who' it was part… I swiftly got another ride (like within four minutes) and by 3:00pm was in Janesville (N 42 43.461 W 88 59.605). Now here I'm not sure whether I got a separate ride in Janesville or whether I was with the same guy until Madison. My guess is that I got a ride here to Madison hitching from N 42 43.470 W 88 59.608 (at 3:01pm). From here I relatively quickly (within half an hour I think) got a ride with a pharmacist who worked in K Mart and went to Madison. He had just finished working and was in a bad mood as he really didn't enjoy his job. My guide to hitch-hiking book mentioned frustration and people getting off work as good possibilities for rides, and he fit that model. To my greatest fortune, he was an amateur radio operator and had both a ham radio (with scanner coverage) and a CB in his vehicle. We saw a truck with Fargo, ND on the sides and he tried to page them on the CB to get me a ride. He had previously tried the ham radio (likely the 2 meter band) to see if anyone was listening and going my way. We didn't get a reply from the truck, but got one from another one. He sold me as a college student trying to go home to the west coast and that worked well. So he let me out at a truck stop a little past Madison, where I met up with the truck driver at around 4:27pm (N 43 10.986 W 89.19.375). The driver was in his fifties. Heavy-set. At Madison he stopped for supper (a LARGE steak - he stopped here often enough to have entered the drawing for a huge steak, but never to yet have won), gas (what's a couple hundred gallons?), and a shower. That was fine with me since I was feeling incredibly lucky to have a ride to ND of all places!!! By now I was convinced that hitch-hiking, be it by some flukish magic or not, was a very functional proposition. The normalness and niceness of the drivers was refreshing. This driver seemed to have been driving for a while (10 or 20 years or more) and seemed very safe. We talked a bit about communities (did a little moralising on our society needing it) as he had hauled some stuff for Hutterites before (they had a colony in Wisconsin), and suspected I might be Amish (perhaps the beard?). In fact I'm Mennonite. The Amish broke-off from the Mennonites a couple hundred years ago in opposition to the use of certain forms of technology (whereas most Mennonites will use cars, computers, etc). Either the Hutterites or perhaps the Amish made wood houses for people, he'd haul the wood (to as far as Maine) and they would set it up for free if someone would provide them with housing and food. I had a harder time talking to him than a lot of the other people since we had a big age gap and were quite different. We talked about general stuff like trucking, weather, geography, CB, hitch-hiking, and I forget what all. At 11:10pm we were past the Twin Cities, near St. Cloud at N 45 21.981 W 93 58.585, clearly making some progress! Wisconsin was much nicer as there were good tree cover on rolling hills. It also became more rural with much less traffic. We stopped an hour or so outside of Fargo (probably around 1am) for five hours of sleep. Most trucks have bunk beds in them. 05.21 We arrived in Fargo before 8am. At 7:56am I recorded the truck stop where I was let out as: N 46 51.055 W 96 51.731. I went to the bathroom and maybe got a soda. Then I tried to get a ride at the BIG truck stop. At this time I gave up on going through Canada, deciding I'd make the best time taking 90 as it went directly to Seattle. I could have taken Interstate 29 to Winnipeg, but didn't. There were probably fifty trucks there. Likely a lot of people getting up for the next day's ride. I asked one guy in a truck which said Washington, and there were a couple Washington trucks. He smiled but said he was going the other way. I was told-off by a guy in a pickup that I wasn't meant to be soliciting at the truck stop. I doubt he believed me when I said I hadn't seen the no-soliciting signs (but it was true!). My goal at this point was to get a ride all the way to Seattle. I was young, a little, but not too, naïve and feeling good. My hitching spot was pretty bad. I first tried to hitch near the entrance, but there was a lousy shoulder especially for trucks if they'd want to pull off. I eventually moved to directly target traffic coming out of the truck stop which could stop with less problems (as they would just be picking up speed and have to stop to turn anyways - stopping trucks is problematic since they have at least eight gears they must shift up through again). I waited a while. Eventually an older guy walked up to me (hardly no-one was walking around as we were on the west edge of town, an area like Grape Road South Bend - aka strip malls) and asked for money to buy coffee. I gave him a dollar and joined him since I didn't have anything to do and to sit down. I was a little cold as it was very windy (especially when I started around 8am or 9am before the day warmed up). He offered to try and find me a ride when I said I'd been kicked out of the stop, though I don't know if he would have done that good a job, so I just joined him for coffee. He got a discounted small pitcher (they gave it to him for a dollar). He was a Vietnam vet, probably in his late forties or fifties. He'd been wandering around for years and looked like a real hobo. He'd hopped trains, hitch hiked, walked, and was currently planning on leaving Fargo for elsewheres. He had some benign cancer (?) for which he'd gotten treatment. He was disturbed, making random comments and mentioning subliminal messages. Possibly schizophrenic but I have very little experience with identifying that trait so I wouldn't know. When talking he would look straight ahead, not at anything in particular, not at me. I asked him about the train and he said it was a straight ride from here out west, but that the trains didn't slow down often in Fargo and he wasn't sure where they did (change crews). He had an assortment of stuff in his pockets. He gave me a feather (probably goose, but he originally thought it might be an eagle one) as a 'sign of friendship' and a wampum bead. Both of which he'd found on the road. He always had a walkman (AM/FM no cassette) with headphones on his ears. The walkman was very interesting as it has a collection of short long things and rubber band types things attached to it, almost like they were keeping the thing together, but they seemed inadequate or very clumsy if that was their intent. He talked a little about his friends who were wandering around. I mostly listened. He offered me a fake ID to sell, which I declined. Eventually he left to get lunch at the Salvation Army and I returned to the road. When I wasn't really expecting it, possibly going through my bag for something or other, I got a ride from a young guy in a car going across most of North Dakota. He was on his way from South Dakota up to Williston (about a ten hour or so drive) to take up a position as a Youth Minister. He'd become a Christian about three years ago and that's why he picked me up. He was easy to talk to since he was my age and we could discuss religion and like subjects. I was the third hitch-hiker he'd ever picked-up. He offered me some food and I ate of his good oatmeal (somehow it was moist! - I was travelling on dry oat meal, chocolate chip cookies, nuts, and dried fruit). I refused to share his ham-sandwich which he almost didn't eat when he found out I was a vegetarian (!!!), but then I assured him that I wouldn't be offended and when he found out I didn't eat cheese, eggs, milk, etc - he justified it to himself. I originally thought I should get off in Bismarck, as that would have been a good place to get a ride if I had to stand at an entrance to the inter-state - but as we missed the truck stop turn-off (there was meant to be one on the west side of the town), I decided to go the extra 90-some miles to Dickinson with him. We almost ran out of gas (about half-way into the empty zone) somewhere before Dickinson. Some of the exits had 'no services'. We were in the boons. The countryside was pretty boring. Mostly range country with some cows. Very rural and not too much traffic. In conversation we actually agreed on the general idea that the Bible implied Christians should work for social justice. He believed in all of the Bible so we disagreed on some things and discussed (mildly arguing) homosexuality for a while. He had a very newly found girlfriend who was studying in South Dakota - and by moving to work they were going to be separated by quite a bit. At 4:23pm I was by Dickinson at N 46 53.785 W 102 47.740. Dickinson was the boonies! Not completely but getting there. I walked out onto the turnpike to get a ride (before I had always hitch-hiked at entrances as hitch-hiking on the turnpike in many states is illegal). There were rains coming from the west and you could see the dark clouds (and possibly even the rains) in the distance. After maybe half an hour or so, I got a ride. It was a short one but well worth it as we drove through the rains which could have surprised me (it would have taken me ten minutes to get to shelter). The person who picked me up was a local. We talked mostly about the geography as I began to admire the countryside particularly as we entered the Little Missouri National Grassland and Theodore Roosevelt National Park. There were nice buttes - or whatever they are called. Saw some wild buffalo and horses. Unfortunately he only took me 37 miles and dropped me off in the middle of the park, where I just missed a friend of his who would have picked me up (he saw him drive by). At 5:21pm I arrived near Medora at N 46 55.895 W 103 33.412 hopped a fence and walked around for an hour or so. At 5:58 I sat on top of a hill, the highest for a couple miles. At N 46 55.981 W 103 33.613 around 2600 ft (though my altitude meter fluctuated from 2450-2800). I ate some food, drank a little water, and wrote my cousin Kara a letter (she was in Abidjan, Ivory Coast) as some dark rain clouds approached but fortunately missed me as they headed north. I climbed down the hill, walking and clambering down a gully. Because it was a gully and it had recently rained, it was muddy and I got dirt in my shoes and shoes stuck a little in the mud. A little bit after getting to the bottom, by the side of the turnpike it began to rain. Then the rain mixed with pea sized hail. I crouched down and covered myself and my backpack with my jacket as there was absolutely no cover around. My ten-year old jacket got very wet in the process though I mostly stayed dry. I was rather thirsty so I ate a little hail (it was nice and cool and good and I was running pretty low on water). I then tried to hitch. Visibility and the shoulder were good, but the traffic sucked. I waited over two hours without anyone stopping! Eventually it got too dark so I stopped trying. I tried to walk a bit, thinking I might be able to find a place with a bathroom and some water - but eventually (after 2 or 3 miles) gave up on that as it was pretty tiring and around 11:13 p.m. camped on top of a nearby hill (not the tallest one) at N 46 56.215 W 103 35.736. I slept pretty well, cocooning in my sleeping bag which was adequately warm. The ground was a little lumpy, but it was ok. It also became very windy in the wee hours of the morning (and I was on the top of a hill - which was probably pretty stupid) and I feared that rain was on the way! But it wasn't. It probably went down to the 40s. 05.22 Next morning (perhaps around 9:30am) I wandered down to the highway and fairly quickly got a ride (within half an hour or so). I was very fortunate to find a truck driver going to Portland! All the way to the west coast, though a little south of where I wanted. He was from England, had travelled around Australia, Canada, and was now staying in the US. He became a truck driver last September when he lost a lucrative power-line (maintenance?) contract. Since he needed more money to support his EIGHT kids, he was training to be a helicopter pilot. He picked me up because he was a Christian (relatively morally conservative one) and he said that. Maybe too because he'd also wandered around. He wanted to move out from Wisconsin to North Dakota or Montana and really liked the mountains. Unlike other drivers, he was athletic and was planning on going on a good jog once he reached Portland. He even had a little barbell weight to lift with one of his arms while driving. By 2:37 p.m. (or 1:37 as the time changed somewhere in mid North Dakota) I was at N 46 16.153 W 106 18.349, part way into Montana. By 6:57pm (I've now switched to central time) I was at N 45 45.845 W 111 11.164 a little bit before Butte where we spent the night. I ate more snack food (granola, chocolate chip sesame (seed and oil) chopped walnut applesauce coconut maple sugar clear the fridge special cookies, dried apricots, raisins, and that was about it!). We both really enjoyed the mountains and the great views! We went to sleep just around sunset. I had a little trouble getting to sleep (hey it was only 8 or 9pm) but managed to do so. We slept at a truck stop where the restrooms were closed and where for about 20+ minutes a number of young women held a small dance (several truckers honked at them). Quite strange. 05.23 Next morning at 8:07am we were at N 46 52.474 W 113 53.299 in Missoula. By 12:55 (or now 11:55 pacific time) I was in Spokane, WA at N 47 35.676 W 117 29.832. I decided to get off there since it was a bigger looking town (on the map) then anything else near the split where my driver was going south to Portland whereas I wanted to keep on trucking (unintended pun) to Seattle. So I got off at the second truck stop on the west side of the city. There I hitched near the interstate entrance, by a telephone post that had a LOT of hitchhiker graffiti. Mostly complaining about how lousy the spot was. Someone had hitched from Kentucky and engraved that. This was the only hitch-hiking graffiti I'd seen all trip. While riding, I saw a couple hitch-hikers, but never met anyone. There was a nearby police station and a no-hitch-hiking sign nearby and a cop car or two passed, but didn't bother me. It was also right near Spokane's airport, so there was a LOT of traffic. The pull-over area was pretty bad. I think it took me about two hours to get a ride. Maybe less. The surprise was that I got a ride from a woman about my age (first woman driver and only one of the nine rides). She was a little abnormal, but in the good (non-dangerous) sense (unlike the first driver who seemed like he could be dangerous - perhaps when drunk). This was the first hitch-hiker she'd ever picked up, and I warned her that hitch-hikers were dangerous and that she shouldn't pick us up! She was thinking that she'd hitch sometime and would want to get picked up. I also persuaded her as to the merits of train hopping. She'd just got back from a month or so backpacking around Europe (alone - but had met people) and showed me pictures of that. I played a song or three on the harmonica for general amusement (I'd brought an harmonica which was a very good idea since you can play it with one hand while you use your other to thumb a ride - gives you something to do). She was a moderately neurotic driver, focussing as she said on the 'big picture'. As a result we would often be going the speed limit (or even less) in the left lane and get passed by a lot of cars on the right. She didn't like driving alone (another reason she picked me up). We stopped off at a grocery store in Ellensburg to break the monotony of the ride, and because she wanted strawberries. I got a grapefruit and two kiwis (Mmm, though the kiwi was far too sour and eating grapefruit in a moving vehicle is a messy process), for less than a dollar. We also stopped off by the Columbia River which flows in a canyon and the area was very scenic. She took my picture there (hope it and the other seven or so pictures turn out!). And saw some horses. I forget their exact name but someone either carved them out of stone or wood and they can be seen from the highway. I called my parents from a gas station to see if they knew anywhere I could stay in Seattle in case I didn't get a ride that night to Vancouver. They offered to pick me up, and I, a bit tired from the vagaries of hitching a couple thousand miles, accepted and arranged to meet them in Issaquah. By 6:08 p.m. Pacific time in N 47 32.323 W 122 02.227, my driver let off by Issaquah, WA. I walked around the town (I did this in a couple towns, especially during the Greyhound return trip when I spent 75 hours going from Vancouver to Philadelphia!). A nice place. Very very green. I read some of my "Canadian Revolution" book and eventually got picked up, hit a Denny's on the way home (I ate curly fries) and then crashed in Vancouver. End of story. Or is it? Finally I'd reached home. AKA N 49 14.629 W 123 11.804 (taken from my room) Conclusion Having packed all my food before, I spent around $3.50 on the trip (mostly on cold pop and the dollar for the tramp). So it's very cheap if you have the equipment (large backpack, sleeping bag, map). I hitched about 2300 miles in 4.5 days. If you got lucky and tried to get rides at night (instead of sleeping) you could do it in less. It's more fun and comfortable than taking Greyhound, though slower as you don't go non-stop (sometimes Greyhound will let you travel anywhere for $59 one-way - which is a really good deal if you have a good book and are ok riding buses). I've heard that hitch-hiking in the South is not a good idea (police), and that for women it's very easy to get a ride but you should be extremely selective. All of the people who gave me rides were very nice, though perhaps the first guy wasn't the safest person. It's nice to know that there are people in America who will go out of there way to help total strangers (drivers are known to drive out of their way to drop you off - the first guy did this a bit). Note: all longitudes and latitudes are given in minutes (aka 88 '57 is actually 88 57/60) Appendix A. "Talking Hitch-hikers Blues" (written on the road - Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, and Phil Ochs all do several "talkin-blues" songs) It started out west out on a turnpike When with a destination I decided to hitch-hike Made-up a sign, stuck out a thumb, and started this song on my guitar* to strum Hitch-hiking blues (*"gui" is pronounced like "Guy" in french, as in Guy Lafleur*) Well, one car passed and then another A truck passed and then another An hour passed and then another but I wasn't getting no rides Drivers on the fly, while I stand the interstate by Going nowhere (fast) Hitch-hiking blues http://www.nd.edu/~akreider