Did you ever hitchhike?

Excuse me? Did I ever hitchike? Hells, no. Raped and murdered ain’t my thang.

I have ridden with strangers, though. I know. Super-smart. I know I did when I was a kid and missed the bus once. This nice guy came along and offered me a ride (this was on our rural little road.) I don’t know who he was and I’m very glad he wasn’t a serial killer. I was probably about 12 or so, so I was ripe for doing something dumb.

I got a ride from someone when my car broke down on the way back to Alva, from Enid, once. Well, that’s not being completely honest. My car did break down, but it was after I thought it would be fun to take the back road between Carmen and Dacoma, and the main back road was closed due to flooding, and I’d already come way too far so I took a road that went from bad to worse. When I attempted to ford what was basically a river in the middle of the “road,” the Camaro gave it up. Turned out to be a good thing too, because there was a drop off right in front of the car and I would have been in major trouble. God was surely looking out for me that day. I took off my shoes and waded to the road, then went, with mud to my ankles, to a house that turned out to be abandoned. Walking on, I ran into people in a truck and I figured I might as well go for it, as my sitation was bleak anyway. I don’t remember anything else (or even if I actually got a ride with them – I assume I did because what else could I have done?) but I’m still here typing, with no weird flashbacks or anything, so I guess it all went okay.

I always feel sorry for hitchhikers. I want to pick them up and help them. But I also do not want to be murdered so I have to let them walk. It was always nice to be in the Malibu with all five seats taken by Ben and me and the kids. Can’t feel guilty when there’s no place for the hitchhiker to go.

Ben thinks that he would like to be a hitchhiker-type guy, or a hobo or something, and ride the rails and eat beans out of a can and see the country or something. I say he’d better go in the fall because he hates pollen (spring), heat (summer), and cold (winter.) I guess he could start being a hobo in September and then maybe call me to pick him up near the end of October.

I would not like to be a hobo. Like hitchhiking, girl-hoboing sounds like another really good way to be raped/murdered.