Hitchhiking in Virginia has not been very good. It seemed everyone who has given me a ride lived outside the state. It was an extremely blistering day after I got short rides from Daniel Boone who was delivering corn and John who was a real estate appraiser.
Highway US 11 was not a good hitchhiking route; therefore, in the morning after using the bathroom at Burger King, I walked a mile to the interstate 81 ramp which ran parallel to US 11. Repeatedly, I reminded myself not to give up as only a few vehicles accessed the ramp to the interstate. After an hour, independent trucker (self-employed) Daniel Boone stopped in his rig as he was heading west about 30 miles to deliver about 80 tons of corn. Because he only drove short routes (less than 150 miles), he didn't require a CDL, just a farm permit. Daniel, a descendant of legendary Daniel Boone, lived in nearby West Virginia with his wife and 4 children. He joked, "The reason my wife and I have so many kids was we tried to have a girl."
Oddly, Daniel mentioned he generally doesn't take this ramp, but another one. But today, for some unexplainable reason, he just went this route. A similiar message would eeriely replay itself later in the day.
The exit Daniel dropped me off wasn't much better than the one he picked me up on. The climate was an oven turned on to burn food to a crisp, but I didn't have any water. I looked at the water running down the side of the road very temptingly as though that may be what I would be drinking soon. Over an hour passed in the tormenting heat before John stopped in a Honda Civic. His travel was only 10 miles, but I was just happy to be in an air conditioned car just for a little bit. He was heading to a nearby high school to appraise the property. John has no problems offering rides since he's hitched plenty of miles earlier in his life. "I figured I owed at least 150,000 miles," he admits. And now I was in debt 10 miles.
If history repeated itself this morning, then I was entwined with it. It was nice and refreshing to be in John's car for a moment, but he delivered me in an even worser spot than before even though there was a truck stop near the exit. Even more depressing, there were actually no-hitchhiking signs (circle around a hand with thumb up and a line drawn through the hand). I was thinking to myself I'd be stuck in Virginia for a while or I'd be in jail for hitchhiking soon.
I reached a breaking point with the sum of sparse traffic, smeltering heat, and deep thirst. I started heading towards a convience store, but then decided to give it another shot as 2 rigs approached. They didn't stop. To my great relief, the next truck stopped. Michael parked his commercial vehicle up ahead by the no-hitchhiking sign. I dashed to it like trying to win a marathon even though running with a backpack is neither elegant nor fast.
"I stopped because you were in no-man's land for hitchhiking. I haven't picked up a hitchhiker in 9 years." I was extremely fortunate this day even though life seemed bleaker and bleaker with each passing ride today. This was the long haul ride I was hoping for days. He was heading into Nashville (I would get off in Lebanon) from here and that would mean 450 miles, the longest hitch so far. And just minutes ago, I had lost hope. I should know better than to abandon hope.
Michael's been driving for 9 years, and the boredom of driving makes him smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day. One of the benefits of driving a truck was he and other truckers get to see what goes on in cars, and there's some funky things going on. "Just the other day, some woman pulls up next to me and started playing with herself." What do I need to do to get a commercial trucking license? And how soon before I can start driving? Or maybe I should get rides from truckers just for the view. But then there's some other nasty stuff which goes on he doesn't want to see.
Back home in Missouri, Michael and his wife owns a small restaurant in a small town. When they purchased the place, coffee was upgraded to more expensive and better tasting brand-name coffee, but the regulars complained about the 25-cent increase (50 cents to 75 cents) even though the restaurant served all-you-can-drink coffee. "You wouldn't believe some of these people. They sit there and drink a whole beaker of coffee and they still complain about a quarter increase. They scream and holler about not coming back, but eventually they do." The restaurant served good sized full meals for $4.00, which is as cheap or cheaper than fast-food joints.
As we drove along and narrowly missed Knoxville, Tennessee, traffic, Michael explained the route he usually takes, "I usually don't take interstate 81 coming this way [which he does on a regular basis]. I take another interstate." I relayed the events with Daniel this morning, and this was the second time someone inexplicably crossed paths with me. What seemed the worst conditions turned out the best. I was truly blessed today.
Maybe I made a good impression of his first hitchhiker in 9 years because he bought me dinner at the Lebanon truck stop. After dinner, we sat in his truck for a few minutes while he did his logs. As we parted ways, he asked me to return to listen to the weather forecast. There was an emergency storm warning until 2 a.m. with winds reaching 80 mph. We parted ways, and he suggested the field behind the truck stop, which turned out to be an incredible stealth camping area. As a bonus, I could use the truck stop's restroom in the morning.
"Have a safe trip driving home."
"I appreciate that."
Michael will probably never know it, but when he asked me to listen to the forecast, he assisted one final time. There were plenty of good places to pitch a tent in the large wooded area behind the truck stop, but I finally decided on a space next to a tree. The tree and tall grass would dampened the ferocious winds in the night.
The wind arrived, and it proceded with a vengeance! However, it barely rained, and the whole trauma only lasted less than 30 minutes. The huge gusts shook the tent as easily as jello and pushed the walls inwards. My faithful portable shelter withheld the assault with the support of the untrimmed wild surroudings.
