I remember when hitchhiking was a means of getting from one place to another. For some it was just a way to get to school or to work. For others it might be a cross country jaunt for a job or a family visit. Of course I am speaking of a time when a twenty dollar a week paycheck was considered as good as it gets. If you can remember 1937 you will know exactly what I am talking about. It was that summer vacation from high school that I wanted to hitchhike to Arizona to visit some friends. With no summer job and no money I figured my mother would approve of my plan. At least my absence would leave more room in our already crowded apartment. So, with mother's blessing and a ten dollar bill I was off on my first long journey. From Oakland, California to Jerome, Arizona I figured would take me two or three days at most. As an optimistic seventeen year old I could see nothing but fair weather and comfortable rides in my future.
My first rides were uneventful and I was on my way south down route 99 when somewhere between Turlock and Merced I was offered a ride in a truck that already had three or four passengers. The bed of the truck was empty except for a layer of straw, which I later learned was to be loaded with watermelon. The driver said if I could drive to get into the cab, and if not join the others in the back. Since I said I could drive I got in with the driver and we continued our journey. We had been driving for about an hour and were passing through a small town which slowed our speed and at times brought us to a complete stop. It was at this time I glanced back into the bed of the truck just in time to see one of the hitchhikers climbing over the tailgate....but oh he had my bag with all my belongings. In panic I shouted to the drive to let me out and blurted ..."he just took my bag". Off I went chasing a person who had my possessions and not knowing what I would do if I caught up with him. That question was soon answered when we were passing a loading platform by the railroad tracks where about six young men were standing in the shade having a cool drink. One of them shouted to the thief.."the depot is in the other direction." As I passed them I told them he had just stolen my bag and in an instant I had six more pursuers.
The chase was short and ended with a frightened young man trying to hide beneath a trailer with, by then, at least a dozen men looking down on him. The truck driver had not only followed but had picked up a deputy from the Sheriff's department on the way. Since I had retrieved my bag I had no idea that I was now involved. It was then that the deputy said the young man would be held in jail until he was brought before the judge and I would have to appear against him. This did not fit my timetable for getting to Arizona but before I could object the truck driver said he would be on his way back the next day and would appear for me. Even this was not what I really wanted. Again, before I could say a word the deputy, in a low voice, told the driver that the young man would be given a lecture, a place to sleep and a good meal and sent on his way. It was only then I felt that it was the end of the story for me.
I am sure I never related this to my mother, nor did I ever tell her about what happened on the second day of my trip. I must say it was even more exciting than the first..
What were you expecting?
Hitchhiking: Day Two
As the deputy was leaving, with the young unsuccessful thief, my truckdriver friend motioned for me to join him. Soon we were back on highway 99 heading south toward Bakersfield. Several hours later, before reaching Bakersfield, I was on my own again as my ride was to head west as I continued south. I don't remember the name of the town, or even if there was one, but I walked down the road with high hopes of another ride. As the afternoon wore on my walk became more of a trudge and must have been evident to those driving by. Finally, a small truck with two men slowed and offered me a lift in the back of the truck. I quickly accepted and sat with a sigh of relief. It only took a quick look at the contents of their truck to realize these two men worked on highway billboards. There were cans of paste, large brushes and rolls of paper and I was now sitting in spilled paste in the back of their truck. Well, at least this ride got me to a truck stop at the edge of Bakersfield. It was dark now and I should have been thinking of something to eat. Food didn't seem important and I used a nickel for a Coco Cola. I had never seen a truck stop before and was amazed to see so many trucks in one place. To get another ride I walked to the edge of the truck stop along the highway and waited. When I thought I was never going to get a ride a driver walked over to me and asked "where you headed kid"? Since I had no idea what towns were next all I could think of was "I'm going to Arizona." With that, he invited me to get into the largest cab of a truck I had ever seen. As I was getting in I glanced at the two empty trailers behind the tractor. Flat and empty. When we started out the driver said they called him Red and he was getting married on the following weekend, and that is why he was working as many hours as he could for the overtime. From Bakersfield to Monolith is about 60 miles and I soon realized that was our destination. Monolith Cement, of course cement in bags would be just right for two flat trailers. We pulled alongside of a loading dock and soon men were bringing out sacks of cement on handcarts. It would be quite a wait as they loaded and Red told me to wake him up whenever they wanted him to move his truck forward. Several times someone would call out "move it up" and I would wake Red for just long enough to move the truck. Within an hour or so we were loaded with hand stacked bags of cement, that amounted to tons on their way to Los Angeles. From Monolith we were headed down Tehachapi Pass to Mojave. A short run but all down hill. It had been a long day for me and I was satisfied to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Just as I was getting used to the sound of the engine and tires on the road I became aware that we were starting to edge off the pavement. A quick glance at Red and I could see that he was asleep at the wheel. It was only with an effort did I shout "RED" and at the same time try to shake his arm to awaken him. Raising his head and looking out Red gently brought the truck back to the center of the road and at the same time was rolling down his window to get fresh air. And to my surprise his next words were, "Talk to me kid....and keep talk- ing." That I did all the way into Mojave. It was around midnight when we pulled into a service station in Mojave. Red climbed into the lower bunk, behind the drivers seat, and told me to use the upper bunk. It was about seven in the morning when someone banged on the side of the cab and said time to get up Red. I was awake and up in short order. I tried several times to wake Red with no success. Finally, someone from the service station came over and climbed into the cab and shook Red and called his name until he was awake. This is where I would continue east and Red would go south so I thanked him and went to the Cafe for a good breakfast.
Hitchhiking: Day Three
It was about seven in the morning when I finished breakfast in
Mojave. My first real meal since leaving Oakland the day before.
My next stop would be Barstow, about 70 miles east. The sun was
up but the air was still cool so I decided to walk along the highway
until I got a ride. It seemed that sometimes an hour passed without
a car passing. Then I realized that the day was going to be warmer
than I had so far experienced. But, on and on I walked thinking that
any minute a car or truck would come by and then all would be right
again. About midday I could see ahead on the road a house, set back
among native shrubs that looked like they had not seen water in many
days. As I got closer I could see a pipe sticking out of the ground
near the house. At least I could get a drink of water. Several windows
were open and the wind had blown the curtains outside giving them a
desolate look. The water pipe seemed to be my best source of water.
I knelt down, opened the valve and waited for water to emerge, even
a few drops. What I did hear was a hissing sound of almost boiling
water and then a stream of rust colored liquid. It was then I noticed
that the pipe was partly covered by sand and then exposed to the sun
all the way to the back of the house. Perhaps a little farther on I
would find water.
It was now past midafternoon, a warm June day, as I walked hatless
on the road to Barstow. Now I was thinking of such things as water,
a nice shade tree or better than that an offer of a ride. I had no idea
of the time but guessed it must be around four oclock. I could hear
a car coming behind me and wondered whether this would be the one
to offer me a ride. My joy was short lived when the car pulled over
and the driver said "I don't have room for you", but, "you are welcome
to stand on the running board." How sweet those last words were. He
then pointed to the back seat showing me that it was full to the roof
and the front seat, with his son, contained even more baggage. I gladly
accepted and off we went with my head in the window and my feet
resting on that wonderful 1930s automotive invention, the running
board. I may have been in that position for an hour before we reached
Barstow. My thanks for that ride was truly sincere.
I had only walked a short distance when I came to a small store and
trailer park. What I saw that interested me first was the sign that read
"Trailer Rental 50 cents per day." I was met in the store by a friendly
middle aged woman who took my 50 cents and pointed to an old trailer
I could use. I had no desire to stay in this trailer overnight since I
only needed to wash and change my clothes. First came the boots, my
biggest mistake. Hiking boots my uncle gave me were certainly not the
proper thing to be wearing. Along with the boots I discarded my pants
that were still coated with enough paste to hang a good sized sign.
With only a small pan for water I managed to wash my face and hands.
Now I had to use the clothes I had planned to use on my arrival in
Jerome. With clean pants and a white shirt, and washed hands and
face, I returned to the store to buy a bottle of milk. With bag in hand
I entered the store to be greeted by this friendly woman who had rented
me the trailer. I will remember her words long after I am so old I will
not remember my own name. She said,,,no she blurted out "OH, I
thought you were a bum." Without waiting for me to reply she ushered
me to the back of the store and into her living quarters and said "you
go right in there and take a nice shower." I took that shower and later
sitting in front of that little store I drank a bottle of milk and wondered
what tomorrow would bring. Tomorrow would be day three. Yes, I did
go back in and say goodbye to that nice lady and thank her for about the
third time.
Almost finished
Journeys End