Thumbing It

Naomi, June, and I made up the usual hitchhiking ensemble. Naomi was this really "out there" type, small with glasses. She had hitched all over Europe. June was a big girl, tall and big hipped. Then there was me, smack dab in the middle. We would carry signs that were funny and sing and dance on the side of the road, putting on a show so people would see us as non-threatening. We were in college at the State University at Fredonia, so we'd pop into Buffalo, about 60 miles away, to visit friends. We went lots of places. We only had a problem once. We were hitchin' through Pennsylvania, and a semi stopped for us. There was one guy in the truck, and we were three, so it seemed safe enough. He suggested two of us sit in the bunk in the back. When June opened the curtain, there were two more guys inside. The tension went up instantly. We were darting glances at each other. They propositioned us and pulled into a sleazy motel parking lot. We just said "no thanks," and we got out. Now we were stuck on some backwater road, and while it wasn't late, it was dark. It could have gone very differently, but we lucked out. Towards dawn, we got a lift back to the main drag. It had been a long cold night, but we were safe.

Next, my friend, Dan asked if I would thumb to Indiana with him to visit his brother at Notre Dame. I said I would if we could also go to Chicago to visit my friend Joanne at Northwestern. We left. It was the middle of January. Boy, were we ever stupid! The Ohio Turnpike is one of those stretches of asphalt that seems to go for an eternity. It was so cold. Probably well below zero. Dan's mustache froze. Then it began to snow. In a half hour, you couldn't see the cars on the road, so they sure as heck couldn't see us. We were stranded. I don't know when we realized that they had closed the road. A nearby lamppost was covered in messages from other hitchers. Not one offered hope. There were short poems about waiting there for days without a ride, and that was in good weather. We were going to freeze to death on a turnpike in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, we heard hope. The snowplow was coming, with a sander right behind it. The driver picked us up and dropped us at an open gas station. We had been out there nearly 12 hours.; We were so cold we could barely breathe. Slept on folding chairs in the warmest, most beautiful gas station in the world. Next morning, the road opened and we had no further problems. Whew!

The next situation was so embarrassing I hate to even go there, but it was the only time I was ever arrested that didn't involve a protest rally. Barry, my first college boyfriend, and I decided we'd just buzz on down to Pittsburgh and visit a long-time friend of mine who was at Duquenes. We get on down to Erie, PA, when Smokey pulls over and arrests us for thumbing on a state road. We head over to this tired looking cabin with a back porch. Inside, it was clear that the porch had once been screened, There were huge tears in the screening. The desk was piled so high with papers that many of the towers had fallen over onto the floor. A short burly, hairy, man walked out onto the porch. He was wearing one of those tank style undershirts with two blobs of spaghetti sauce on his belly. He sat down at the base of the paper towers. He asked us how much money we had. We had seven dollars.

All of a sudden he pulls out a gavel slams it on the desk and says, "Guilty of vagrancy! Five days." We couldn't believe it. What kind of sentence is five days? Now, where were we going? Oh yeah. This tiny little jail in the police station. There were four cells. We did our FIVE DAYS, but poor Barry! They cut off his long locks.When we were released, we called our friends who thankfully picked us up. Noreen was holding a big pot of pasta. Barry and I ate it right from the pot with big stirring spoons. Nothing would ever taste better.

This last tale of woe put me off hitchhiking forever. Shawne was both a high school and college friend. She was a volatile, bleached blond bombshell. I asked her to thumb with me about halfway across the state to Horseheads, N.Y., to visit a friend. I told her to dress like a man and put her hair up inside the watchman's cap I was giving her. Well, when Miss Shawne shows up at the Thruway entrance I was apoplectic. She was wearing a mid-calf length white suede coat trimmed with white fur, hair blowing in the breeze of the semis. I didn't even ask. I already knew this would not end well. We were about 75 miles from our destination when two men stopped and offered us a ride. I wanted to forget it, but Shawne already had her stuff in the back seat. It was light when they picked us up. It was now dark, the guys were drinking in the front seat, and the roads were getting narrower and darker. One of then said he had to pee. I told Shawne we were in trouble and to steal the car. I jumped in the driver's seat, and as my hand turned the key, a hand reached in and grabbed mine. Shit! Shit! Shit! Now, one was in the back seat with Shawne and I was in the front. We kept driving. They were giving each other "signals" and I was sweating bullets. They finally pulled over for another whiz fest. I told Shawne to grab her stuff and run. It was so black, but we could see a light in the distance. We ran and ran hard. We pounded on the door of a little cottage where two young married couples were having a dinner party. Speech is impossible without breath. We were so winded and terrified, we were having a tough time explaining. We looked out the window and the men were driving up and down the street looking for us. One of the husbands said he would drive us the last 50 miles if the other would stay and protect the woman til he got back. We took the bus home.