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Aug. 3, `69
When I left San Francisco I had $3.00 in my pocket and 2000 miles in
front of me. The rides were short and when I arrived in Sacramento,
I couldn't get a ride at all. I have always had bad luck hitchhiking
in Sacramento. I think Governor Reagan has the people there
conditioned not to pick up hitchhikers.
One retired army cat picked me up and gave me a ride for about 75
miles. When I got out of his car it was already dark. Two dudes in
an old jalopy picked me up and my luck started changing. It was fun
riding in their rattletrap of a car, especially after they turned me
on to their cheese and beer. I rode with them as far as Reno, Nevada.
While hitching on Reno's well-lit main street, I tried to get a long
ride. After a couple of hours of turning down rides, I decided to
take the next one. I was really tired when an old man stopped and
said he was only going a few miles down the road. As I got into his
car, I told him that was okay because I just wanted to get out of
town where I could throw my sleeping bag down on the ground. My plan
was sound, but the old man's car wasn't, it died before we got out
of town. When he pulled into a gas station, I had no choice other
than to keep on hitching. As I was walking out to the highway, I
noticed Utah plates on a car getting gas. I decided to ask the cat
in the car for a ride. That bold approach paid off. After getting
gas, the two of us headed off to Salt Lake City.
This cat was one of the nice things that happened to me, he turned
me on to good weed and wine. It was exciting driving through the
mountains, as the full moon turned night into day. Just as we were
really getting into the scenery of the mountain peaks, though, we
had a flat tire. Even though it was freezing cold outside, we
laughed through the whole ordeal. High in the Sierra-Nevada's,
surrounded by mountain peaks silhouetted against a black sky,
changing a flat tire was more of a gift than bad luck. After we
fixed the flat, we drove until 4:30 a.m. and then, taking a break
from the drive, we stopped at a gambling casino. I had $2.50 in my
pocket and I won a little and then lost it all. Steve also lost, but
he had more money to lose. While he was losing, I reached over and
pulled one of the slot machine's arms. I hit a jackpot without
putting money in the machine. The machine paid $6.50. I was
flabbergasted. Like a fool, I put the whole amount back into the
machine. Boy, did I feel dumb.
We arrived in Salt Lake City late in the morning. I needed a shower
and a shave, but most of all, I needed sleep. I hadn't slept since
Seattle. Just sitting in his comfortable chair, drinking a cold
beer, after a shower and a shave, felt like heaven. There were
fishnets hanging from the ceiling and artwork hung from the walls.
It felt like I was in a little opium den, especially after we smoked
some. Steve couldn't give me what I needed most, but he did provide
me with the next best thing. He laid three hits of Dioxin on me. I
ate the speed immediately; I still had a long way to go.
My next worthwhile ride was in Nebraska. The cat took me all the way
to Joliet, Indiana. He drove an air-conditioned Mustang and was a
teacher from California. He turned me on to food and paid for the
campsite we stayed at. I was beginning to feel a little better after
getting some sleep. The knowledge of being close to home was very
satisfying also.
After Joliet, I got a lot of short rides. One particular ride was
with some heads who were on their way to Woodstock, New York. They
told me they were going to a large rock concert. They said Jimi
Hendrix and the Who were going to be there along with some other big
groups. When they invited me to go with them I politely declined. I
just wanted to go home.
My next ride was with an extremely nice trucker. I drank some of
the trucker's beer before he dropped me off in Lansing, Michigan.
When I got out of his truck, he pulled a huge cantaloupe off of the
back of his truck and gave it to me. It was the best tasting
cantaloupe I had ever eaten. I was beginning to feel really good
when, to my surprise, a car pulled up and the cat in the backseat
rolled down the window and asked me if I needed a place to crash.
Before I could even begin hitchhiking, I had a ride and a place to
stay.
The cat's name was Patrick. He and the two chicks with him were
themselves hitchhikers, riding in the car. I climbed in the car, and
we were off to East Lansing. When we got out of the car the chicks
went in one direction and Patrick and I went over to a submarine
sandwich place where Patrick treated me to a giant submarine
sandwich. The sandwich was excellent. After eating, we went across
the street to a coffee house where Patrick and I drank hot coffee
and listened to live acoustic music. When we had our fill of coffee,
we hitched back to Pat's house. His parents were away, so there was
no hassle in my staying.
When I awoke the next morning, Patrick had already gone to work. He
left a note with a dollar bill attached to it, wishing me a safe
journey home. My mother and father were both at work when I walked in the door.
The first thing I did was open the refrigerator and gorge myself on
all the delicacies that normally I would consider just humdrum
foods. After being on the road, you acquire a keen appreciation for
the things that you usually take for granted.
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