I left Manchester way too late after being unable to pass any restaurant without stopping in for some food. I hit up a pizza joint, a donut shop, an ice cream shop, and most importantly, the grocery store before I departed.
The lady who drove me to the trail head increased my fear of hitch-hiking, not because of murder or kidnapping but just plainly their driving. Yesterday the man who drove me into town helped me realize to not look over at the driver when you talk to him. Maybe he thought he had some sort of track underneath him but even after repeatedly driving on the gravel shoulder, he continued to look over at me. And his vehicle was far from a five star crash test rating, unless the standards were lower back in the seventies when it was made.
So today I kept my eyes on the road. Turns out I think I’d much prefer tuck my head into my lap and assume the fetal position. The seventy year old lady kept turning onto the wrong side street and rather than turning around in someone’s driveway on the side street, stopped in the oncoming lane and backed up. I sat looking into the deep fog covering the four lane highway, waiting for Death to drive a semi into us. Its a truly a wonder that lady is still alive.
And I cannot forget to mention the man who slams on the brakes only to back up to me and says when I am throwing my stuff into the back seat “I would have picked you up back there but I was sipping my beer.” I cannot say for sure if he was tipsy or not because I’ve seen people drive like that and I have seen some weird people who act like that. The catch was that I would have guessed he had been drinking even if he had not told me.