I love Hitching

Recently I found myself with some time on my hands, but no money. So I decided to hitch and visit a good friend in France.

A great aspect of hitching is its ability to create possibilities for something to happen. This is true of travel in general, but even more so when thumbing a lift, where the random element has no schedule or plan to constrain it, and the nature of the lift givers almost inevitably mean a conversation with someone you’d not normally have met. This is what gives me; the hitcher, such a feeling of relief; I can escape from the rigid structures of day to day life, patterns and routines- each trip is an adventure.
What route shall I take? - Wherever my next lift takes me.
When will I arrive? - Whenever my last lift drops me off.
How long will my journey be? - How long is a piece of string?!
I’ve hitched a Mercedes limo driven by a Muslim man from Afghanistan, a van with an English couple moving all there possessions to Spain, carpenters in Holland, a government agent with sensitive data on computer discs in the car, A Hungarian truck driver who spoke not a word of English, a Catholic Polish couple working and studying in the UK, a German businessman, a young French and American couple due to be married in May (who were two of the most hospitable people I’ve ever met), a couple of great Scouse guys doing asbestos removal (don’t breath too deep in that van!), and perhaps most spectacularly, a lift from a Fire Engine whilst stood on the side of a motorway at night in Belgium!

I suppose some people would hate the uncertainty found on the road, but I think they’re missing out.

Despite all the excitement to be had hitching, you don’t see many people with their thumbs out. It seems there’s something out-of-sync about hitching in relation to modern life and western society: you have to trust strangers, and they have to trust you- stark contrast to the (questionable advice?) our parents give us as children, (when you consider that you’re much more likely to be murdered or abused by someone close in your family)…. Instead, you have to work on the basis that people are generally good, and that the media scare stories are exactly that: stories. To hitch is to re-affirm the basic nature of humanity- if there is someone in need, and there’s something you can do to help them, you will.


I’ve often stared into passing cars whilst waiting for a lift and thought “why won’t you stop for me?” On my most recent adventure from North Wales to North Eastern France I came to a somewhat satisfactory, if slightly circular decision about the nature of the people passing me by- “they aren’t nice enough people to stop, so I wouldn’t want them to stop”.

Nice people stop, not-nice people drive by.

This feeling was a particularly prominent in my mind, as at the time the weather was as unpleasant as only the UK can be: a “lazy wind” (one that goes straight through you instead of around), rain, and of course sleet. A thermometer may have read above freezing, but believe me when I say it felt warmer at minus 23 in Canada.
So there I am, stood at the side of the road, dressed in a clean and tidy fashion, even doing my best to smile, thumb out, and these people see me standing there in what they know to be bitter conditions, just drive by with little more than a vacant glance. I’m thinking: “Have they no pity? - I’ve been stood here for 5 hours!” Well, they may have pity, but what’s outweighing that is fear.
I was reminded of the statistics found in the documentary Bowling for Columbine; though real violent crime had dropped by 15%, over the same period reported violent crime had increased on TV by 600%- end result: frightened people who believe that the world out there is a much more dangerous place than it actually is. You start to think about the fact that most young people don’t hitch anymore, and so don’t have any empathy for us hitchers, the high numbers of women drivers (who are unlikely to stop for a lone man, though I have had a lift from a woman on her own twice), the rape and murder stories in the media scaring the sheep-like masses into believing that all us hitchers are some Fred West style psychopath. We have a bit of a catch 22, the trust within society is a loop, and the fear placed within us by the media breaks that loop. Whilst it’s true that I believe the media carries a large portion of the blame here, we’re all individuals, with our own minds, and we can choose to believe whatever we want. We don’t have to be empty, unthinking vessels that the media fill up with rubbish and fear.
Interesting, that over the entire 1900km distance I hitched this time, the biggest waits were both close to London. Draw what conclusion you will from that, but I’m wondering if it’s the well known fear city folk have of getting involved. It’s almost as if the safety in numbers found in city life seem to absolve them from their individual responsibility- “someone else will stop”.
Maybe they don’t realize, as they drive by in climate controlled comfort, that if they just thought for themselves for a change and picked me up, they’d find an articulate, gentle human being, who’s just trying to get around without money- not a psycho- they would have one real experience that makes them question just how bad society really is, and above all they would get that great feeling from having helped someone- society would have become just be a tiny bit better….. Karma….


It’s an extreme experience: the excitement of the drop, wondering if will be a good spot, if another car will stop straight away (and that happens much more than you’d think). At this point I’m slightly worried about turning away from the traffic at all, in case it’s the very moment that a lift would’ve seen you and stopped- but this is less of a stress, than a challenge, to keep facing the traffic whilst writing new signs, finding food, taking a drink.
I find I stay optimistic for about 40 mins, and I consider a lift within that time to be a quick stop. But after that, as the clock ticks ever onwards, I can’t help but become a little pessimistic, particularly if it seems like a busy place, with good visibility, and it’s easy for a lift to pull over. This is when the dark thoughts about the changes in society begin to form. Strangely, this is usually the lowest I get, as not long after this point my mind begins to wander, and the focus on my immediate situation wavers, and it can be hours before the next bout of frustration rears its ugly head. But right now, conscious of getting sprayed with dirty, icy water by all the passing trucks, the fun of hitching has worn off.
And then someone stops......
Straight away thoughts of the four hours spent freezing my ‘nads off disappear, and I’m elated to be on the move again. I begin to chat with my new driver (who’s involved with satellites and industrial espionage), and find that he’s going almost 300km and straight past my front door at home. I’ve spent only £25 to travel 1900km, and met some great friends; suddenly hitching becomes the coolest way to travel once more, not just the coldest.


And so I feel happy to be one of the people who believes in the basic goodness of humanity, trusts others, seeks adventure, and has conviction enough to put that to the test and stick my thumb out.

Next time you see a hitcher, try stopping, after all, there’s a chance they might not be a murdering rapist….