I have once, but now I’m really afraid of this: http://youtube.com/watch?v=zbfH2oGXqSg
And I thank you for that. Once, I was 8 months pregnant, and my car broke down, so I started walking to work. 7 miles, down a busy state highway. A kind person offered me a ride. She seemed ok, so I accepted.
After two county and one state police officer drove by. I explained to my boss why I was late to work, and she called her husband, who was a sheriff’s deputy, to bitch about cops ignoring an obviously pregnant woman walking along the highway. That got results.
I did more often in leaner, hungrier times, hoping for offers to chip in gas money. One incident kinda put me off the practice, though. Coming back to Phoenix after helping a friend move to L.A. I spotted a guy walking along the highway. No gear, no backpack. Middle of the desert. I stop, and he’s headed for Phoenix, he guesses. Turns out he’s had a fight with his girlfriend and stormed out of the RV they’d parked to sleep. His story is her kids are brats, she won’t control them. One of them grabbed his pillow and in the course of getting it back ‘accidentally’ backhanded him and gave him a bloody nose. She freaked, he bailed. They live together in Phoenix, and he decides to just go there. I dropped him off at their house, not too far out of my way (what’s 7 miles out of 370?). I didn’t feel personally in danger, but giving a lift to a child abuser was kinda creepy. There was more to the story, I’m sure. I wonder how long she waited around before driving back without him?
Did a couple of times in my reckless youth in Texas, but never do when driving in the US now. The last time I ever did was in a friend’s car, and he was driving, so technically it was not I who gave the ride. But we gave this guy a ride who was nice enough, but it came out in conversation that he’d recently been released from prison. The ride went without incident, but afterward we looked at each other and said, “Man, never again.” I hitched in Europe once back in those days, too, and that was no problem.
Hitching in Thailand and many other countries in the region is absolutely unheard of, bus fares being so cheap. Standing on the side of the road waving at any vehicle that comes along is considered something only an uneducated villager might try. For ordinary buses between cities, though, you really can flag them down from any point along the road, so on the odd occasion that Thais see a Westerner trying to hitchhike, if they stop it’s often to point out where a bus stop is, figuring they must be trying to flag down an air-con bus; those don’t pick up passengers just anywhere.
I once gave a ride to a gal who had missed the bus. She was clearly kinda frantic, so I felt that it would be safe. Ordinarily though, I would not do such a thing.
Only once, but it was an experience I’ll never forget, and one I hope never to repeat. I was driving from Chicago to San Diego, falling asleep at the wheel, and I decided to pick up a hitchhiker in hope that some conversation would help keep me awake—plus it was pouring down rain and I felt sorry for the guy.
He was an older guy, nice-looking I suppose, but very creepy. We hadn’t driven far when he told me he intended to murder me. Thankfully I managed to push him out the door of the moving car. I thought that was the end, but the guy must’ve had super powers or something, because everywhere I went he kept turning up. Turns out he was some kind of serial killer. Tried to frame me for the killings, in fact. A truck stop waitress took pity on me and served me a burger and fries, but there was a severed finger in them, which I almost ate. Gross. She believed I wasn’t the killer, but then she got killed herself, torn apart by chains attached to a tractor trailer.
Anyway, some other stuff happened too, but I don’t want to bore you. Let’s just say it was quite an experience and I sure learned my lesson.
I can’t do this, I’m just too paranoid. It makes me sad, too, because it is one of those nice things you can do for people to help them out.
I once was stranded in the middle of winter on the side of the road with no gasoline, and this guy pulled over and offered me a ride to the gas station. I was 17. I thanked him but said I had to decline for safety reasons.
Felt terrible about that. Felt even more terrible when he came back fifteen minutes later, with a can of gasoline, and refused payment.
I’ve just always been really safety conscious about stuff like that, I guess. I don’t like the idea of being in a moving vehicle with people I can’t trust… and well, come to think of it, I’ve got some damn good reasons for that.
I’ve given lots of rides,still do.All uneventful,with some good conversation or discovering we know someone in common.
Back in the gypsy days when I was the hitcher,I had a strange incident heading west out of Williamsport Pa. Late at night,an older guy picks me up.My bag of clothes went in the back,kept my guitar in the front.
Being late fall,I was cold,and the dash heater had me nodding off. I woke up to his hand in my crotch.Out the door I went with my axe.He drove off.A bummer night.
The last ride I got was during hurricane Floyd.My car quit when the water got over the wheels,so I parked off what I thought was the road and started walking in the deluge.It was low back country and many of the feeder roads were blocked by swollen streams or downed trees.
Some guy in a tractor trailer stops and asked directions-he had been detoured and hadn’t a clue where he was.It was a convoluted route to get him back to what he knew,so he asked if I was going that way.
It was a fortuitous thing,that ride.Had I not been in the truck the high water would have prevented further travel by foot.
The trucker was so happy he insisted on driving me home (no too far out of his way),but part way down my mountainous,curvy,almost two lane road,the fire police had a blockade and he had to BACK OUT the whole damn way.He said it wasn’t a problem,and from the sounds of it he might have hit third by the time I could no longer hear him.
The Netherlands is totally different from (parts of) USA in this respect. Up untill the mid-eighties, hitchhiking was very common for students going home for the weekends and wanting to save the money for train and busfares. There were special "hitchhikers-places outside the major cities where hitchhikers would gather, each with a cardboard sign stating their destination, where cars could safely (traffic-wise) pick them up and drop them off.
Then, in the mid-eighties, the govenment issued students a card that made travel with public-transport free. Hitchhiking in the Netherlands virtually disappered after that. The only ones hitchhiking now are tourists.
Back in the seventies, my hippie dad would often take hitchhikers back home with him and let them sleep on our couch. I remember it fondly; they were grateful and had interesting stories. I hitchhiked quite a bit myself in Europe when I was a student (again, mid- and end eighties) and have fond memories of the encounters. Sometimes people asked us to their homes as well, and that usually went well.
Three years ago, there was a major malfuncioning in Dutch trains, leaving thousands of travellers stranded at Utrecht Central Train Station. My fiance was one of them, but fortunately he could borrow a car from a friend in Utrecht. He went back to the station to offer a ride to fellow stranded going to his destination. They were grateful.
I have just one bad experience; me and another girl once hitchhiked through Italy, circa 1990, and we got in a car with a guy who after twenty minutes on the highway started waving money at us and insisting he wanted " just one minute" of something. When I could no longer fake not understanding him (I tried desperately to steer the conversation to what statesman was on the banknote) I just said me and my friend wanted out of the car. And he let us, with a mixture of embarrasment and resentment. We had to walk to the nearest gas-station then, which was a bummer.
Many times. The last time was a youngish (but not that young) lady who had two young guys - her kid brothers, supposedly - hidden behind a hedge for when I stopped. I chuckled inwardly and gave them all a lift a few miles out of my way, as I wasn’t in a hurry and it made their next stage easier. What can I say? I’m kind like that.
I grew up in the suburbs outside of Philly. I used to hitch a LOT going up Rt. 611 ( Old York Road ) to Penn State Univ. After a while, I’d spot the parking sticker on a car and thumb them.
I also used to hitch in the classical sense. Strange area, etc. Never had a problem, and met some interesting folks.
Last time I gave a ride to someone it was a young lady whose car had just broken down- on an elevated off-ramp from I-95. It was swelteringly hot and she ran for my car and hopped in. I asked where I could drop her and she spend the next 30 minutes completely scared, telling me how big and protective her boyfriend was, how she really never did this stuff, etc. I tried to assuage her fears, talking about my wife, two kids, etc.
I offered her the use of my cell phone so she could call her boyfriend and let him know she’d broken down, had a ride, etc. She did so but was even freaked out whent talking to him. I dropped her off and she RAN towards the house, barely tossing a “thanks” over her shoulder. I gave the boyfrienda wave and left.
Not gonna pick someone else up again. My instints were fine and I know I’m safe. The person getting into my car doesn’t know that, and I should just avoid the danger. I hate thinking that way.
Cartooniverse
Just last year the Pundits were in Hilton Head and we met an older woman on the ferry over to Dafuskie Island for a guided tour. She was an English lady who’d lived in the Bahamas the last 40 years. We ended up chatting about this and that throughout the day. She was very interesting. Anywho, when she asked to borrow our cell phone to arrange a pick-up from the dock, I offered to drive her home and she accepted.
I’ve never given a ride to a man before, though, nor would I for safety reasons. Just too many nutcases out there. I feel bad, though. Sometimes it sucks to be a woman.
Nah, I don’t drive. But if I did I probably would be one of those that did it every so often.
However…
You gave me a lift once and I still remember it and remain appreciative for it. Thank you and you too, Lizard Queen.
Never. No way in hell. Unless you count when I have been at work, then many times (not hitchhikers but strangers who need rides). Of course I am heavily armed at the time.
I was picked up once when I was 15 and had snuck out of the house to go see my girlfriend. I took a bus there but there weren’t any running by the time I was headed home. Some Russian guy picked me up and was asking me for directions. He couldn’t understand the beltway numbering system. He kept asking for 279 and I’m like, “Yeah, just make this turn onto 79” I finally convinced him and he dropped me off a few miles from home.
Years later (like last summer) I picked up this guy desperately waving a tshirt at traffic on the highway. He obviously had a flat. After the tow truck came and put his spare on (we had no tire iron), it was too late to get it changed to a real tire. So I invited the guy to my favorite bar where my favorite local band was playing. He had a good time and bought me some drinks. Then I let him crash on my couch. He was gone in the morning but I got a thankful text later that day.
De nada, you came with credentials. 
About once every two weeks, I have occasion to drive up 7th ave, and I think ‘That’s where Idle Thoughts’ lives when I pass your complex. Unless I’m totally misremembering and think that at some other place. 
A young, fit dude with a knife, possibly even without one, would totally kick my fat middle-aged ass however good I might think I am. But I always figure a coward dies a thousand deaths.
Not exactly hitching, but when I first moved to Las Vegas, I didn’t have a cell phone and was commuting from downtown to my house every day. Suddenly, I notice my car is making a funny noise and the next thing I knew is that my front tire had blow to smithereens.
I pulled off the freeway and was trying to get someone with a cell phone to stop so I could call for help. Doing my best charades for about 15 minutes, finally a car stopped…it was a young black woman with two little kids in the back seat - she let me use her cell phone to call a tow truck and then call home to explain where I was. It was an extreme act of kindness for her to stop for a big, old, hysterical male honky. I thanked her 20 times at least and I think I still owe karma for that.
To make the story even better, one of the attorneys at the law firm where I worked at the time casually mentioned the next day, “Was that you I saw on the freeway waving to traffic yesterday?”
Asshole prick. He knew it was me and, instead of turning off at the next exit and coming back to help me, he drove on! His karma came a few months later when he was fired from the firm - after being a partner there for many years!
Haven’t picked up any hitchhikers in years (and, come to think of it, can’t recall the last time I’ve even seen one), but I’ve occasionally done it in the past. Two times that come to mind:
I-10 in New Mexico. I’m in a 20-foot U-haul truck, towing my car behind, moving all my possessions from California to Houston. I’ve stopped for gas at a truck stop in the middle of absolute nowhere. While I’m filling up, a guy in his late teens walks up and says he’s trying to get to Houston (to see his girlfriend, I think it was) and could I give him a ride? I looked him over; white T-shirt, jeans, no jacket, no bags, not even a backpack. He was practically begging me, so I let him on board, but frankly was a bit leery about the whole thing. I had no intention of overnighting with him around, so I claimed I was headed somwhere in the northeast and could only take him as far as El Paso, which I did.
Coming out of some small town in Western Colorado (Granby?), I see dozens of young couples by the side of the road, holding up signs soliciting rides to various places. I stop for one of them that list a Denver destination, since that was where I was going. They get in mentioning that they had been attending some sort of Christian retreat. I say, “that’s nice”. The guy then asks if I’ve found Jesus. I say I wasn’t looking for him, particularly. He then proceeds to badger me me for the next half hour about what a sinner I am and how I’d better get right with God. I finally get so steamed that I say, “well, I may indeed be an incorrigable sinner and a horrible person, but I gave you a ride, didn’t I?” Finally, even his girlfriend told him to tone it down. He hardly said two words the rest of the way, which was fine with me. Ingrate.
I thought it was poetic when I picked up a hitcher in Winslow AZ. Of course that was in the '70s.
I wasn’t driving a flatbed Ford, however. 