I mentioned in a comment to a comment to my last post that I once hitchhiked from Selma to Mobile, Alabama. Since I'm definitely a non-hitchhiking kind of a guy, I thought some of you might find it mildly interesting to learn what that was about.
Well, it was the summer of 1971 and I'd just graduated from Geneva College. The Reformed Presbyterian Church's Selma congregation (their only all-black congregation) was asking for volunteers to come to Alabama and help tutor black students to get them ready for college. I volunteered.
The program was being held on some sort of campus, complete with dormitories, a little bit outside of Selma. Being a recent English major grad, the thing I was going to be tutoring, naturally, was English. What was quite interesting was the fact that the only other tutor on hand from Geneva was Ren Adams, my good friend and someone I grew up with at Eastvale R.P. Church. Ren was tutoring math.
Anyhow, one weeekend Ren got the idea that we should venture forth and see more of the state. Specifically he wanted to get down to Mobile, which is on the Gulf of Mexicio.
"And how will we get there?" I asked.
"Simple," he said. "We'll hitchhike."
Though I was hesitant at first, eventually I agreed and off we went.
My memories of the trip are vague except for an episode which is vividly imprinted on my memory.
It started when we were picked up by a couple young guys who were driving the weirdest, flimsiest pick-up truck I've ever seen. The back portion (which was where Ren and I rode) had no sides and instead they had plumbing pipes rigged up like a kind of fence.
Anyhow, we were bombing along the interstate in that truck, feeling none too safe, when the guys up in the cab spotted some girls in another car that they seemed to know. They somehow signalled the girls to meet them at the next interchange.
They then promptly pulled the truck to the side and told us to get out.
Ren and I walk along the highway for a few minutes, figuring we'd catch another ride at the next exit. At that point a Alabama state trooper's car pulled over ahead of us.
The cops got out and told us to get in the back.
"Did you know it's illegal to walk along the interstate?" they asked. They then told us that they'd give us a ride to the next exit.
Looking in to the squad car, we saw there already were a couple other twentysomething hitchhikers in there, both of whom had dark hair and beards. It turned out they were tourists from France who could barely speak any English, so I did my best to communicate with them. From what I could make out, they were in the country to see a space launch (one of the moon missions?).
In the end (obviously) we made it back safe and sound to the school.
And that was the end of just about the only time in my life that I've ever hitchhiked.
Well, it was the summer of 1971 and I'd just graduated from Geneva College. The Reformed Presbyterian Church's Selma congregation (their only all-black congregation) was asking for volunteers to come to Alabama and help tutor black students to get them ready for college. I volunteered.
The program was being held on some sort of campus, complete with dormitories, a little bit outside of Selma. Being a recent English major grad, the thing I was going to be tutoring, naturally, was English. What was quite interesting was the fact that the only other tutor on hand from Geneva was Ren Adams, my good friend and someone I grew up with at Eastvale R.P. Church. Ren was tutoring math.
Anyhow, one weeekend Ren got the idea that we should venture forth and see more of the state. Specifically he wanted to get down to Mobile, which is on the Gulf of Mexicio.
"And how will we get there?" I asked.
"Simple," he said. "We'll hitchhike."
Though I was hesitant at first, eventually I agreed and off we went.
My memories of the trip are vague except for an episode which is vividly imprinted on my memory.
It started when we were picked up by a couple young guys who were driving the weirdest, flimsiest pick-up truck I've ever seen. The back portion (which was where Ren and I rode) had no sides and instead they had plumbing pipes rigged up like a kind of fence.
Anyhow, we were bombing along the interstate in that truck, feeling none too safe, when the guys up in the cab spotted some girls in another car that they seemed to know. They somehow signalled the girls to meet them at the next interchange.
They then promptly pulled the truck to the side and told us to get out.
Ren and I walk along the highway for a few minutes, figuring we'd catch another ride at the next exit. At that point a Alabama state trooper's car pulled over ahead of us.
The cops got out and told us to get in the back.
"Did you know it's illegal to walk along the interstate?" they asked. They then told us that they'd give us a ride to the next exit.
Looking in to the squad car, we saw there already were a couple other twentysomething hitchhikers in there, both of whom had dark hair and beards. It turned out they were tourists from France who could barely speak any English, so I did my best to communicate with them. From what I could make out, they were in the country to see a space launch (one of the moon missions?).
In the end (obviously) we made it back safe and sound to the school.
And that was the end of just about the only time in my life that I've ever hitchhiked.
posted by Ted | 8:22 AM
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