There's Adventure to the West Day 2
Tuesday, May 20th was an awesome day of hitchhiking. The day started right off the bat with a ride back towards Iowa City. It turns out that the man I had met the night before in the laundry room of the campground worked in construction, and was currently working in Iowa City. He was one of the most generous people I would meet on the road, I only wish I had caught his name.
When he began his load of laundry the night before, I had noticed that he seemed a little wary of the weary little bum setting up camp in the laundry room, but later that night he came back to get his things. When he saw me on the floor, he told me that he had something for me and went out back to his truck. He returned with a pound of smoked deer sticks and some blankets. I accepted the deer sticks, not really knowing what they were and told him that I'd be alright with just my sleeping bag. I thanked him, and we spoke for a bit before he went back to his camp site. On his way out he offered to take me to a town called Tiffin the next day on his way to work. After an evening of kicking myself for getting stranded out in bufu, this offer was perhaps the most beautiful pairing of words that could grace my ears. I told him I'd love that, and asked what time I should wake up. We agreed on 6am. He left, and I began trying to make myself comfortable sleeping on the tile floor, with only my cardboard sign between me and the cold hard ground. The sleep wasn't too great, but my excitement to get out of Oxford, Iowa was stronger than any caffeine.
He dropped me off at a gas station just a little ways off the interstate in Tiffin. I contemplated showering in the restroom sink of the gas station, but decided I could maximize my time trying to catch that one magic ride if I just wiped myself down with baby wipes and slapped on some baby powder. In hindsight, I really should have showered at the campgrounds.
I sat down on the lawn of the gas station, propped my bag up against a sign post, and decided now's a good time as ever to begin breakfast. I force fed myself some deer sticks and cheese. I don't have much of an appetite in the mornings, even moreso when I'm travelling, but I figured I'll need to take advantage of every bit of food I get my hands on. I ate until I couldn't bare to look at another smoked deer stick, washed it all down with some water, and made my way over to the on ramp.
The early morning was still cool, and the winds were just enough to discourage the bugs from coming out. The mornings while hitchhiking are invigorating. There is literally no limit to the possibilities that the day might bring. Who knows where I'll end up, who I'll meet, or what I'll do today? I daydreamed of possibilities while watching a semi-frequent flow of traffic pass by.
After 20 minutes or so I noticed a car pulling over towards me. Excited, I ran over to the passenger door to see where my new friend would be heading. That excitement soon turned into a mild fear. This wasn't just another ride, this was a state trooper. I knew I wasn't doing anything illegal, but it's not uncommon for hitchhikers to be harassed, or for the local police to be uninformed as to the legality of hitchhiking. I thought to myself ,"the day just started and I'm going to be harassed..." Fortunately, my luck hadn't run out quite yet. The officer asked me where I was heading, and I told him I'm heading West. "Hopefully all the way, but we'll see." "How old are you?" the officer asked. "20" I replied. He asked to see some ID. I can only assume he was either making sure I wasn't some runaway, or he was making sure there any warrants out for me. After punching some of my info into his computer, and a brief conversation with another officer on his walkie talkie, he moved his laptop stand to the side and told me to hop in. I thought to myself "This is really happening. I'm getting a ride from the police themselves", which was almost immediately followed by a brief paranoia that maybe he'd be taking me into the station. I asked if I could throw my stuff in back, and got into the passenger side.
Officer Jessie Hernandez was an awesome ride. I thought that the cops would be the antagonists on my adventure, but Officer Jessie was anything but that. He drove me some 20 miles to Williamsburg. In the meantime, we chatted about all sorts of things, most of which pertaining to his career. Life as a resident assistant was hard enough for me at college, I couldn't imagine how he managed to find balance as a law enforcer. We chatted about the cultural decline in morality, the importance of a father's presence in family, etc. This was a man who lived the motto "protect and serve". It's really great to get a ride from an officer. It's probably one of only a few rides where you don't really have to wonder whether or not you'll be safe. Feelings of absolute security aren't extremely common on the road. I'll take every bit of security I can find. Before he let me out in Williamsburg, the officer gave me his business card and wished me luck on my trip. He told me to give him a call if I need anything. I made a mental not to make sure I let him know if I make it to the coast. We parted ways, and I got back out on the ramps.
It was only a few minutes before a pickup truck stopped for me. I was picked up by a man named Steve. Steve is the only ride that I had on my entire trip that I almost didn't enjoy being in a car with. Within our hour long drive together towards Des Moines, he probably smoked a half pack of cigarettes, and I probably thought to myself "only 'x' more miles to go..." probably a dozen times.
His car was a mess. Admittedly, getting into his car was a blatant violation of one of the rules I had set for myself as far as selecting a ride goes. "No messy cars. If the driver can't take care of themselves, then they definitely can't take care of you." But he told me upfront that he had done a bit of hitchhiking back in his day, and I figured a ride with an experienced thumber could do me some good.
He texted while driving pretty often, and would drive with his elbows, swerving back onto the road occasionally. He also spent a good portion of our time together on the phone with a friend of his, and his kids. He was a silly character though. For a grown-ass man, he had the most childish laugh. It made me smile a good amount during the ride.
Steve was also an incredible racist. Excuse the language, but he was furious that his daughter was "fucking a nigger, making a bunch of half-niggers, always busy begging for money because she's always getting doped up... We're the most racist family around, and our girl decides to run off with the blacks. And then she wonders why we don't accept her kids as part of the family." Ignorance aside, I can tell that he just wanted the best for his daughter. His other kids had grown up to be relatively successful, and this one was getting coked up and living on welfare. Steve was a strange man.
For about 10 minutes I sat in silence in the passenger seat as he chatted on the phone with his best friend who was a cop/ renaissance man who had gotten called to a "domestic situation" earlier that day, only to find that it was just some punk wanted to fight a cop. Steve said that his buddy clubbed him in the knee, and the "fight" was as good as done. He laughed, "Could you imagine?"
Steve dropped me off right outside of Des Moines. Across the road was a big sign that said "Adventureland." I tried to think as to whether or not I had actually bothered to go see that movie. I couldn't remember, but figured I must be in Altoomn, Iowa. I waited a good amount of time at this truck stop, asking truckers if they were heading West. I met one man who was going all the way to Utah, but his truck had just had some complications. He was landlocked for who knows how long, and he showed me what was wrong with his truck. We chatted a bit, and when I had too much of the sun, I went to sit inside the truck stop to cool down.
When he began his load of laundry the night before, I had noticed that he seemed a little wary of the weary little bum setting up camp in the laundry room, but later that night he came back to get his things. When he saw me on the floor, he told me that he had something for me and went out back to his truck. He returned with a pound of smoked deer sticks and some blankets. I accepted the deer sticks, not really knowing what they were and told him that I'd be alright with just my sleeping bag. I thanked him, and we spoke for a bit before he went back to his camp site. On his way out he offered to take me to a town called Tiffin the next day on his way to work. After an evening of kicking myself for getting stranded out in bufu, this offer was perhaps the most beautiful pairing of words that could grace my ears. I told him I'd love that, and asked what time I should wake up. We agreed on 6am. He left, and I began trying to make myself comfortable sleeping on the tile floor, with only my cardboard sign between me and the cold hard ground. The sleep wasn't too great, but my excitement to get out of Oxford, Iowa was stronger than any caffeine.
He dropped me off at a gas station just a little ways off the interstate in Tiffin. I contemplated showering in the restroom sink of the gas station, but decided I could maximize my time trying to catch that one magic ride if I just wiped myself down with baby wipes and slapped on some baby powder. In hindsight, I really should have showered at the campgrounds.
I sat down on the lawn of the gas station, propped my bag up against a sign post, and decided now's a good time as ever to begin breakfast. I force fed myself some deer sticks and cheese. I don't have much of an appetite in the mornings, even moreso when I'm travelling, but I figured I'll need to take advantage of every bit of food I get my hands on. I ate until I couldn't bare to look at another smoked deer stick, washed it all down with some water, and made my way over to the on ramp.
The early morning was still cool, and the winds were just enough to discourage the bugs from coming out. The mornings while hitchhiking are invigorating. There is literally no limit to the possibilities that the day might bring. Who knows where I'll end up, who I'll meet, or what I'll do today? I daydreamed of possibilities while watching a semi-frequent flow of traffic pass by.
After 20 minutes or so I noticed a car pulling over towards me. Excited, I ran over to the passenger door to see where my new friend would be heading. That excitement soon turned into a mild fear. This wasn't just another ride, this was a state trooper. I knew I wasn't doing anything illegal, but it's not uncommon for hitchhikers to be harassed, or for the local police to be uninformed as to the legality of hitchhiking. I thought to myself ,"the day just started and I'm going to be harassed..." Fortunately, my luck hadn't run out quite yet. The officer asked me where I was heading, and I told him I'm heading West. "Hopefully all the way, but we'll see." "How old are you?" the officer asked. "20" I replied. He asked to see some ID. I can only assume he was either making sure I wasn't some runaway, or he was making sure there any warrants out for me. After punching some of my info into his computer, and a brief conversation with another officer on his walkie talkie, he moved his laptop stand to the side and told me to hop in. I thought to myself "This is really happening. I'm getting a ride from the police themselves", which was almost immediately followed by a brief paranoia that maybe he'd be taking me into the station. I asked if I could throw my stuff in back, and got into the passenger side.
Officer Jessie Hernandez was an awesome ride. I thought that the cops would be the antagonists on my adventure, but Officer Jessie was anything but that. He drove me some 20 miles to Williamsburg. In the meantime, we chatted about all sorts of things, most of which pertaining to his career. Life as a resident assistant was hard enough for me at college, I couldn't imagine how he managed to find balance as a law enforcer. We chatted about the cultural decline in morality, the importance of a father's presence in family, etc. This was a man who lived the motto "protect and serve". It's really great to get a ride from an officer. It's probably one of only a few rides where you don't really have to wonder whether or not you'll be safe. Feelings of absolute security aren't extremely common on the road. I'll take every bit of security I can find. Before he let me out in Williamsburg, the officer gave me his business card and wished me luck on my trip. He told me to give him a call if I need anything. I made a mental not to make sure I let him know if I make it to the coast. We parted ways, and I got back out on the ramps.
It was only a few minutes before a pickup truck stopped for me. I was picked up by a man named Steve. Steve is the only ride that I had on my entire trip that I almost didn't enjoy being in a car with. Within our hour long drive together towards Des Moines, he probably smoked a half pack of cigarettes, and I probably thought to myself "only 'x' more miles to go..." probably a dozen times.
His car was a mess. Admittedly, getting into his car was a blatant violation of one of the rules I had set for myself as far as selecting a ride goes. "No messy cars. If the driver can't take care of themselves, then they definitely can't take care of you." But he told me upfront that he had done a bit of hitchhiking back in his day, and I figured a ride with an experienced thumber could do me some good.
He texted while driving pretty often, and would drive with his elbows, swerving back onto the road occasionally. He also spent a good portion of our time together on the phone with a friend of his, and his kids. He was a silly character though. For a grown-ass man, he had the most childish laugh. It made me smile a good amount during the ride.
Steve was also an incredible racist. Excuse the language, but he was furious that his daughter was "fucking a nigger, making a bunch of half-niggers, always busy begging for money because she's always getting doped up... We're the most racist family around, and our girl decides to run off with the blacks. And then she wonders why we don't accept her kids as part of the family." Ignorance aside, I can tell that he just wanted the best for his daughter. His other kids had grown up to be relatively successful, and this one was getting coked up and living on welfare. Steve was a strange man.
For about 10 minutes I sat in silence in the passenger seat as he chatted on the phone with his best friend who was a cop/ renaissance man who had gotten called to a "domestic situation" earlier that day, only to find that it was just some punk wanted to fight a cop. Steve said that his buddy clubbed him in the knee, and the "fight" was as good as done. He laughed, "Could you imagine?"
Steve dropped me off right outside of Des Moines. Across the road was a big sign that said "Adventureland." I tried to think as to whether or not I had actually bothered to go see that movie. I couldn't remember, but figured I must be in Altoomn, Iowa. I waited a good amount of time at this truck stop, asking truckers if they were heading West. I met one man who was going all the way to Utah, but his truck had just had some complications. He was landlocked for who knows how long, and he showed me what was wrong with his truck. We chatted a bit, and when I had too much of the sun, I went to sit inside the truck stop to cool down.
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