Adventures with hitchhikers

To my wife’s dismay, occasionally I pick up hitchhikers. Not those who are clearly crazy or have a visible weapon, usually appropriately attired folks in pouring down rain.

Probably, I came to this mindset likely due to my pal Pete, who hitch-hiked from New Jersey to and from Cincinnati for college. Pete is worldly smart, a wonderful guy to spend time with. Maybe a good psychiatrist would say I assume all hitchhikers are like Pete. Unfortunately, they aren’t.

A couple of years ago, in pouring rain, I picked up a high-school-aged boy and girl thumbing a ride into town. As was my want at the time, I had country-western music on the radio in my car, my new passengers were dry and initially seemed to appreciate the lift. After about 45 seconds of Tim McGraw, they started twitching. By the end of the second song, the guy asked, “Do we have to listen to that music?”

“Nope,” I said, “if you’d prefer, you can listen to the rain. Outside.” Given that option, country-western was apparently a preferable sound.

Then there was the young man I picked up (yes, in pouring-down rain) on my way home from morning court. He asked if I’d take him to a local tavern. (Note to self: This is not a good sign for a hitchhiker or anyone else at 9:30 a.m.) It was on my way, more-or-less, so I said, “Sure.” He got into my car soaking wet and almost immediately, and said, “I don’t think it’s fair that the transit bus doesn’t have to take you just because you are so contagious. Do you?”

So contagious?! Yikes. (Second note to self: Don’t pick up people with lesions, uncontrollable twitching or sweating, or who appears to be contagious. Even in the pouring rain.)

The most recent gentleman I picked up was walking in my neighborhood in sheets of rain. He worked at a local business and was delighted when I dropped him off at his work’s front door. A few days later, in the rain, I picked him up again. On the way to his work, he said, “You wear a tie to work. A doctor?”

“No,” I responded, “a lawyer.”  I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Could you drop me off at the mini-mart, instead of the front door, this time?” And I did. Apparently it was better for him to walk 200 yards in the rain than have his workmates think he knew, or egads, perhaps is friends with, a lawyer.

A notable hitch-hiker was British comedian Tony Hawks who in “Round Ireland With a Fridge,” circumnavigated Ireland hitchhiking with a refrigerator in tow — to win a bar bet. His funny journey spawned one of my favorite sayings: Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.  From his “hitching,” he notes some of life lessons he learned on the road that apply to our day-to-day lives.

You will often depend on others.

You have no control over certain aspects of your life. You can’t control, for example, who stops for you and not.

Most people have a good story to tell when you are chatting in a car.

Persistence pays off. Sooner or later, someone will stop and give you a lift.

I would add one more to his list from my experience: Some people would rather walk in pouring rain than be seen with a lawyer.

(Jeff Tolman is a Greybull native, the son of GHS grads Bob and Freda Gould Tolman, and the grandson of Anna May Gould Simonson and the late Fred Gould, who edited the Standard years ago.  His family moved to Portland where Jeff graduated from high school. He graduated from law school, practiced law and was a district court judge.)