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I used to hitch a lot and had some interesting rides, best was a lift with a truck from Peru to Santiago Chile, a ride in a Ferrari from London to Reading, took another 9 hours to get to South Wales, a lift with a trucker who had built a road through my village and told me a woman I knew was a prostitute.
Only had one real weirdo/freak who was a bit unhinged. More funny than threatening.
Any good tales of hitching, there must be.
I once picked up two Slovaks who had hitched to Scotland. They'd had a bad start, heading SE to Italy, got to Marseille, then got a lift all the way from there to Northhampton. Next was from there to Edinburgh. They spent the night in the station then managed an early morning lift to the Broxden Roundabout at Perth where I found them. They had a map torn out of a cheap diary and were bound for Ullapool but thought the A9 went past Loch Ness. As I was in no hurry, I took them via Laggan and Fort Augustus.
I used to do it a lot. Best lift? Probably the Spaniards who spoke no English that picked us up in mid France and took us to Calais. They got lost in Paris, gave me the map and in broken french we tried to communicate - we found out where we actually were when we went past the Eiffel tower!
I also hitched right round Australia and all over the UK.
I've picked up a few of your run-of-the-mill hitchers - young folk adventuring, that sort of thing. One young lad has been in the library in Aberdeen and wanted to stay longer than his mum so she drove home and he was walking back to Ballater. He started getting tired around Banchory so we scooped him up.
The best was a guy I picked up the Lake District and took to Loch Lomond - he had got there from Dorset. He was in his fifties and had been in the pub and the chat had come around to hitching and how it was dying off and he thought it wasn't. He said it'd be possible to hitch from the pub to Land's End, up to John O'Groats and back to the pub in 48 hours. So he went. I don't think he quite managed it but he wasn't far off.
Oh that reminds me of another one, was heading to Hawkstone Park from London and ended up in Glen Eagles, that was a fun adventure, got to Hawkstone the next day.
Hitched from a small town in Pennsylvania to Jacksonville, Fl via Indiana when I was a student for a semester out in the States. Was a pretty mad road trip - stuck to the big rigs but still ended up in some interesting places culminating with lunch with a Klan member having a very mature debate about why I wasn't racist but he was.
I'd pick up a hitcher though however Mrs D would veto the idea if we were in the car together.
I used to hitch hike a lot in the mid 80's. All over Britain and in France a couple of times. It was a fantastic way to travel, it really reinforced how great most people are.
I've a terrible memory, but some things spring to mind. The dodgy experiences were rare, but perhaps some of the most memorable.
One ride was from a guy who went miles out of his way, whilst he tried to chat me up. At one point he said "what would you do if I touched your knee?". To which I replied "I'd scream" (I've always been so macho) so he drove me a bit further and I got out. Then eager to get away from that experience, I was picked up by a bloke who drove at 130 mph along an A road, single lane in parts iirc, pulling in and out of lorries; whilst I was wishing I'd taken up the offer from the guy in the last car.
Lots and lots of rides were on motorways from salesman who constantly drove at 90 to 100 mph. On a few occassions I'd get a lift from someone delivering a new fancy car, whilst using red number plates ( some temporary plates thing, that no doubt everyone else is familiar with) and you could guarantee they would ride well over 100 mph, even through road works.
One memorable ride was from someone I didn't recognise, but he had been a professional rugby league and union player who had played for England. He told me the greatest player he had ever played gainst was gareth edwards, as he just seemed to have so much time. He drove along smoking weed.
Never hitch myself but pick them up if I see them. Never given a long lift it's always been short local trips.
Good weirdo in Somerset. About 09:00 heading towards cheadar. Told us the story that for some mysterious reason he had his license taken off him. Stunk of beer. Took us round a back road to avoid a stuck bus. Perfect!
Some guy near Prestwick. Was making his way round churches and castles. Bivied when he couldn't get a youth hostel. Dropped him off just outside Carlisle.
Seems more popular in Europe mainland.
In Norway as an 18yr old. Hiking in the rain and out of energy so accepted a lift from 2 locals. Sat in the back of the van with my mate on the biggest box of dynamite I have even seen (tbh the only box of dynamite I have ever seen but it was the size of a coffee table). Turns out they were brothers. They dropped us off at a campsite then came back later that evening with other family members. Took us out for the evening in their fishing boat to catch a mackerel supper and then their uncle lent us a car for a couple of days.
Another. One gorgeous day I was hitching back to Cardiff from Birmingham, around Ross on Wye. I was about 21 and got a lift from a woman a bit older, in her early 30's and she was stunning. So she drove me along in her open top MG midget, the Sun was shining and we were flirting away. I doubt I would play things any better now, but I didn't play my hand well that day.
Trying to hitch from Oxford to Northampton in 1987ish - Lamborghini slowed down as though to pull in and pick me up, then sped off with a magnificent roar.
I expect the subsequent ride in the transit van was more comfortable....
Used to hitch regularly in the mid 80's, most memorable two trips were getting picked up by a nurse and pub landlady in South Wales once which was an interesting night 😜 & getting on the UK news whilst hitching just north of Perpignan as Ian Botham retraced Hannibals steps - film crew offered us a lift back to UK but we'd only just arrived in South of France..
My wife picked up three soaking wet nuns in Crianlarich one dark rainy night and drove them to Fort William. No idea what they were up to. Probably German spies or something.
Got picked up by Adamski’s manager long ago so I could skin up from London to Leeds for him. Didn’t care where I was when I eventually stumbled out the car.
I've never picked up a hitchhiker after watching a Hammer House of Horror episode many moons ago...
Quite a few tales, but out of hundreds of lifts only a couple of dodgy ones. And ‘you can be wrong about people’ (see below)
Jannerspanners:
Early 90s and a beaten up bronze-coloured Cortina picked me up at Michael Woods. My sign said ‘Cornwall please’. I got in, and two weathered looking dudes grunted at me over the tinny full-blast radio speakers that were vibrating the doors. We exchanged intentions/stories (me: - ‘visiting friends nr St Blazey’, they: ‘working at the fairground’
After a few miles the guy in front passenger-seat turned half-around and grunted loudly ‘Got any money?’
I said I had a fiver for petrol if that might help. He took it without acknowledgement.
All the way down the M5 in a storm of car-shaking treble from the speakers and no word from my gruff hosts, just the occasional glances between themselves. I was feeling slightly uncomfortable, but off the M5 they turned into a garage and bought some fuel. This made me feel better for my contribution. But then the driver didn’t turn for North Cornwall, he headed towards South Devon.
Couldn’t think what to say but didn’t want to arouse suspicion of my stirring anxiety ... so said something like ‘Still OK for Cornwall?’
I regretted asking. A grunt came from someone in the front. Assuming affirmation, I then attempted to relax.
Next thing we’re approaching the City of Plymouth, and crawling further into a maze of Council estates.
And now into a cul de sac!
At this point my spidey-senses/brain-gremlins are going nuclear, so I secretly have my right-hand on the pommel of a 5” bowie/bushcraft knife in my rucksack’s R/H side-pocket (used it for camping/bushcraft since a teenager, never up til mid-20s began to worry too much if or not it was legal!)
Me: ‘Where are we going?’
Driver: ‘Noworries, just drapping ‘im off at his sisterz, then I’ll draaap you over Tamar’
He did then drop me off ‘over Tamar’ in Cornwall. I shook his hand. The End.
One young lad has been in the library in Aberdeen and wanted to stay longer than his mum so she drove home and he was walking back to Ballater
So about 40 miles then?! Maybe a 12 hour walk!
Weighing up in my intoxicated mind if I I should point out, to the stoneheads who I had happily accepted both a lift and some joints from, that after stopping off at a service station we shouldn't really be heading the wrong way down slip road off the M1...
While climbing in the Alps a friend and I decided to avoid a long walk, several thousand metes of ascent & descent, and an extra nights bivi by hitching through the valley. Our first lift was with a parish priest in a 2CV who stopped in the next village, left us in the car (with the ignition keys) for an hour while he administered the last rites to a parishioner came back and drove us to the local town. Our next lift on to Chamonix was with a very glamorous women in a Porsche who was absolutely off her face on something and ranted continuously about something for the whole trip (My french was too bad and hers was too slurred to work it out), and drove like an absolute lunatic.
Before that while hitching back from Stanage in a storm (looking like a drowned rat) I was picked up by our then local MP who went 10 miles out of his way to drop me within walking distance of home. I can’t imagine our last or current MPs even considering giving a lift to anyone let alone anyone in the state I was in.
I used to hitch a lot back in my teens before I passed my driving test. Think I caught my first lift when I was about 11 or 12! Most memorable trips? I remember going climbing in Glencoe when I was 17 with a teacher from school who I had climbed with for years. He drove up but had family in Aberdeen he had to visit on the way back. So we went cross country and he dropped be on the big A9 roundabout just outside Perth. 11 hours later I was back home in South Wales! It would have taken 9 hours to drive it without waiting for lifts! Another time me and a mate got picked up from the same roundabout (having slept on Dundee train Station) early doors by a drunken Scotchman. He stank of the whisky and it was pretty obvious he was pished. He dropped us on the motorway interchange where the A80 joins the M73. That was a scary place to try and get another lift!
Another time I got picked up by a lad on a big 750 race bike who just happened to have a spare helmet. We went down the M50 at about 110-120 mph which would not have been too bad but I was wearing a great big rucksack, being as though I was coming home from a geology fieldtrip! I was barely able to hang on 🙂
Good times.
Hitched back from Europe during the 2006 world cup, that was entertaining at times but hard work at others. Didnt help that 3 of us made it an awkward number.
Usually stop to give lifts in the UK if its on my way. Actually dropped one lad off at his house as we figured it was only 15 minutes extra out of my way (on a 5h drive from Reading to Redcar) but would likley have taken him hours to get from the neerest services into York.
I once stopped and picked up 4 lads with rucksacks nearly as tall as them. It was pissing it down.
They piled into the Vectra (only just) and I asked where they were going.
Turns out they were army officer cadets and were on a training / initiative thing where they are dropped off in the middle of nowhere and given crazy tasks like flying in a plane or appearing in a theatre performance but had practically no money, transport or communications (well before mobile phones) and just had to see if they could blag it using charm, intitative or just good fortune.
I dropped them off at various places along my route (service engineer touring the country) and one travelled all the way from up north to milton Keynes with me.
My two best hitches
1) At Uni in Portsmouth and wanting to get back to parents in Henley about 60 miles away but no really direct route. Stood near a service station and a classic (even then) Jenson FF pulls over and a man with a thick American accent asks if I know where Henley is. I explain I do and get in. It turns out he and his wife are on a second honeymoon trip around Europe and one person they are going to see is my parents next door neighbour. Literally dropped at the door after me anbd Mrs American accent had smashed through a couple of bottles of Mumms.
2) Less glamorous but much appreciated. Broke, hungover, slightly beaten up and no idea where we were other than walking along a long, hot straight road in France when a Range Rover drives past. I spot English plates and shout at the top of my lungs ENGLISH!!!! and he stops. We get in and he asks where we are going and we just say Anywhere. He looks a bit unsure but drives us to a cafe near Nice and gives us 20FF. Top Bloke.
I came round to the idea of hitching after I quit an apple picking job in the middle of butt **** nowhere in Australia, somewhere on the Victoria /NSW border, after inquiring how much a bus back to Melbourne was.
Had a few memorable moments.
One guy took me from nowhere back to Melbourne. Ended up leaving half my house, break beats, prog house, drum and bass CD collection in his car and going to a rave in the middle of the Bush outside of Melbourne.
Some old dude pulling a plane through remote Western Australia. Three days with him. Stopped at his mates place and his mate took me up in his crop sprayer the next day.
Mate and I got a lift down to the south western most point of Australia. Raging storm. Told the bloke what we were planning on camping. Turns off down some dirt track, gets his Land Cruiser stuck on a fallen tree. Gets dark. Free the truck after using the winch and chainsaw.... Oh, and we were all pissed and high AF. Free the truck and he says we need to find a clearing for the tent because of the trees. Matey and I pitch our tent and are woken the next morning by two old guys with plus fours. We had pitched on the fairway of the local golf club. Deep tyre tracks leading to and from the tent.
On the way back from that trip going north. Dark, raining. Been waiting for hours. A couple come along in their two seater pick up,massive tank on the back. He offered that we could hunker down in the back, but advised us to wrap up. **** me it was cold. A three hour journey in the elements.
Somewhere up north on the west coast. Had been waiting for two days and a big aboriginie guy pulls up (I had been warned by some to be wary of aboriginies). I chucked my pack in the back and climbed in. After a chat and pleasantries (he was in government and heading up north from Perth to visit family) he asked "do you smoke, bro?" and opened the glove box which was full of weed. Oh and there was a cool box between us full of JD & Coke. Spent a night sleeping on the tail bed. Top guy.
Same road, a day or two later. Got dropped off in an aboriginal settlement. Was a bit unnerving. The police came and picked me up and let me sleep the night in the two roomed station. Next day standing outside the station a car without a windscreen, front fender, rear windscreen and five aboriginies pulls up. "get in bro!". I said that the car was full and they should carry on. One of them jumps up front and sits on the centre consol and I squeeze in between two large guys in the back. They proceed to pull out ice cold beers from a 12v fridge. Was surreal. Ended up giving one guy my sunglasses. Top blokes.
Ride in a four trailer roadtrain heading up to Darwin was awesome. Proper manly.
I don't think I paid for a single bus or train during my year in oz.
Due to that I make a point of picking people up. Pay it back.
There is a tradition amongst trades in Germany that after your apprenticeship you go on the Walz. Travel about for a year or more working in other regions to learn other techniques. They are even expected not to have to buy beer or accommodation, instead working for their keep. Have picked up a few guys wearing the full on clobber. Always interesting, sometimes smelly AF.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journeyman_years?wprov=sfla1
Have picked up various Italians (seems more popular in Italy than Germany & Austria) on the Brenner Autobahn heading north. Always good fun and have always bought them a beer at Lake Tegernsee.
It's a shame that fewer people travel like this.
Aberdeen to Dublin with a couple of Canadian exchange students for St Patrick's day, we got to Belfast late and the guy who'd picked us up in a van carrying flowers from Amsterdam insisted on taking us back to his and letting us sleep on his kitchen floor. His mum's face was a picture the next morning. Later he took us for a tour of the city including up the Shankill Road and down the Falls. "We won't get stopped, but if we do you'll have to do the talking".
Hitched all the time as a teenager for rock climbing plus a few Europe tours. Hitched around southern Africa and went through Matabeleland in the civil war and got to Portugal a few times during the revolution. Was in a car that turned over on the M1 but generally had very good experiences and a variety of vehicles from being on a tractor with a sheepdog to RRs, a lift with Chris Woods (of Traffic)in a Dino, met Dominic Behan in a lift to York. Never got seduced but had one or two offers that weren't up my street, as it were. My brother got passed joints by a silent pair in a car, they dropped him off on the Exeter ring road, he got out of the car and fell over.
I picked up countless hitchhikers in Botswana (against advice) and everyone was happy. Even when I did it (without mobiles and satnavs) people would still say 'it's not safe these days' but it was and should be encouraged. It was an education.
Did it a lot from '79 to mid '80s, including hitching to Istanbul when I was 18 which seemed a big deal as it was pretty foreign back then and still just about on the hippie trail. Sheffield Uni had a hitching race in its rag week back then, which I did once though hitching for its own sake is frankly pretty boring most of the time. Got to near paris and back over a weekend (only memory - waking up under a calais flyover with a cat on my chest), getting across the channel for free each time. As we did when I hitching to Istanbul now I think of it. Set off with a very attractive female (as in not girl)friend which made it a lot easier. Though the french lorry driver who took us from Dover to Milan turned out to have a stash of gay porn in his bunk so she may not have been a factor with our best lift. Not that I consider myself candy particularly, even beck then... Our wort lift was with a couple lorry drivers out of sicily. One of whom tried to... actually I'll edit this bit out. Physical confrontation ensued which could have gone very badly indeed had they take it remotely seriously. Now I think back we were pretty shaken, left in the not-so-early hours some service station en route to Brindisi.
Days before mobiles etc, and I was going to say I couldn't picture any of my kids doing the same aged 18, but thinking about it one did cycle on a fixie from berlin to denmark at 19, including camping in beer gardens. But I don't think kids hitch these days.
Was down in NZ on a work trip and needed to get from Rotorua to Taupo, so decided to hitch for a giggle (had done plenty in NZ on a previous trip, and in various other places over the years).
First person to stop was in a knackered 2-seater toyota of some sort - peeling paint, scrappy and rusty. But it was fairly clear that I was heading in the same direction as him, so couldn't really say no.
Had a good chat with him, though felt on edge. He kept looking in his mirrors, and had something in his doors pocket that he kept fiddling with.
about 10k from Taupo he tells me he's got to pop in to this shady looking estate for a minute to see his friend, by which point he's got this tinfoil package in his had. Turns out he was a dealer, on the way to drop off a ton of pills.
Needless to say, i thanked him for his lift and (politely) insisted that he'd driven me ar enough and I really wanted to walk the last 10k. Got out, jogged up the road and put my most desperate thumb out hoping someone would pick me up before he finished his deal and spotted me again 😅
Hitched around Japan for 7 weeks once too - fell asleep immediately multiple times, had a lift with 2 young, attractive women in the back of their suzuki jimney (v uncomfortable, failed to make the most of the situation), and got given some octopus skewers in sauce, which promptly leaked all through my bag and left me stinking of octopus for the next 6 weeks.
plenty more in france, iceland etc too, but those are the standout trips!
Sheffield Uni had a hitching race in its rag week back then,
That was my first hitching experience. At uni in Birmingham the race was down to Lands End, up to John O’Groats and back. Set off with a girl I’d just met. No planning, just head off. We made good time and arrived in Penzance about 10pm, with nowhere to stay so we sat freezing in Penzance train station. The next day we made it to Edinburgh, but decided we’d never cope with the cold further north and stayed in a B&B in Edinburgh for a couple of days.
I was hooked.
I hitched everywhere as a student all through the 70s. I got quite good at finding the best places to stand and always used to have a piece of cardboard and a thick felt pen for writing destinations. Towards the end of my hitching career I got bolder and used to wait outside motorway service cafes then ask reps for a lift as they came out; I seldom waited more than a few minutes and would whizz past the hitchers standing on the sliproad feeling very smug.
My best ever hitch was Newcastle to Glenbrittle in nine hours, which you'd be hard pushed to equal nowadays in a car. One of the lifts was in a van sitting in the back, which made me feel carsick. I also once did Newcastle to London in under five hours, most of the way with a rep in a Granada Ghia who did 90-100 all the way. In those days there weren't any traffic jams on motorways so you could get around pretty fast.
A buddy and I once hitched from Stokenchurch on the A40 into London. In those days I used to carry a sheath knife on my belt, a leftover from scouting days. How I never got stopped by the Police I don't know. Anyway we got picked up by this hippy driving an estate car full of bundles of Oz magazines. He told us to take one to read so I produced the knife to cut the string and the poor guy nearly died of fright - "Er.... what's the big knife for, lads?" I felt a bit bad about that afterwards. I once got stuck at a windy junction on the A1 in freezing weather, nobody was stopping so I began a big charade of looking cold, swinging my arms around and so on. The next car that passed, stopped and contained three elderly ladies who said: "We don't normally pick up hitch hikers but you looked so cold!" I didn't have a warm jacket, just a stripey suit jacket I got for a fiver; nobody really wore sports-type clothing around the streets in those days. Another time it was just after Glastonbury and I was hitching from Salisbury to London and got stuck on a roundabout on the A303. The place was crawling with crusties and I reckoned my chances were just about zero. A good hour later a posh business type stopped and said "I could see you weren't one of those hippes, you won't get a lift so I'll drop you somewhere better".
I had some fascinating conversations wth all kinds of people and enjoyed every trip. I have hitched recently in France, most memorably with my wife and young son when we missed the last bus back from the town to our ski resort and a French lady picked us up and gave us all a cream bun! I would still pick up hitch hikers but you never see them; the last time was coming back from the Lakes to my home near Rammy before the M59 was built round Blackburn and late at night I spotted a couple at the start of the Blackburn ring road, it was freezing and windy and the girl was crouched down covering her ears. Picked them up and turned the heater on full and they were so grateful. They were vsiting her mum in Bacup and had had a nightmare trip so as it wasn't far out of my way I took them straight to Bacup. Poor things!
Why don't kids hitch nowadays? is it paranoia? Or cheap bus and train fares?
I dunno how easy it is in the UK, only tried a couple of times, gave up after a few hours on both occasions and got the national express.
Why don’t kids hitch nowadays? is it paranoia?
Good question. Not a kid now but I never hitched (dispite picking up hitch hikers). My reason are more practical. It always seems like a mode of travel where you have to be really flexible on time. Whenever I was young and ne ded to get somewhere there was still usually a real time constraint or reliability constraint. I had more free time than now but not that much free time.
A couple that stand out:
- needing to get from Liverpool to Cumbria, home for Christmas as a student. A trucker picked me up within a couple of minites at the Rocket Pub, end of M62. Dropped me on the hard shoulder of M6 near Penrith a few hours later, one field's walk from my house. I literally took 5 minutes longer than driving it myself.
- the delivery truck in France while shuttling for a canoe trip on the Allier River. He spent about 40 minutes telling me his hero was Sebastian Loeb and that his 7.5t handled really well... as he flung us around corners to the protests of his tyres. On a gorge road, cliffs both side, river I was to paddle about 100m below....