Day 26 – April 26 – Part 2 – A Lift

Day 26 – April 26 – Part 2 – A Lift

The problem with hitch-hiking in a known ghost spot is that no one particularly wants to give you a lift. I knew this, of course, before I packed a bag and trekked out to the main road to get a lift to the closest metropolis, but I did it anyway. I was dressed in my best jeans (no tears, only a little fraying and a couple of paint spots) and my best shirt. I took my hat off every time a car passed and I threw my thumb into the air. After a couple of hours I started off down the road in what I hoped was the right direction. A couple of trucks passed me, their horns blaring and I even caught a couple of curses as I lifted my thumb and smiled my best “I-just-want-a-ride-to-town-not-to-kill-you” smile. It didn't work.

I camped out that first night underneath a sign proclaiming that the next fast food family restaurant was only 20 miles away. I had no idea we had a family restaurant that close. But it did prove to me that I was going in the right direction. I had only been off the farm a couple of times in my life and then we only went to the local general dealer.

I ate a stale sandwich and waited to fall asleep with my head cradled on my bag. I wondered if I would see one of the hitch-hiking ghosts. Maybe they could give me a pointer or two in getting a ride to the city. It was worth a try. I only had one soggy sandwich left and was not about to turn back home before I had even tried to get a job in the city. I would show the family that I could make a living for myself in the city.

I woke up the next morning when the sun started to glint off the sign above my head. It was nearly nine o’clock and I quickly jumped up to check that I still had all my belongings. Everything was there, including the money hidden inside my hat, and I could feel my whole body relaxing. I put my hat back on, rummaged in my bag for a piece of gum and threw my thumb in the air with each car that passed as I plodded along.

Ahead I came to a bend in the road. On one side was a plain golden with wheat. On the other side the earth plunged away. Right on the bend, where the earth fell away was planted an old wooden cross. The ribbons on it were faded and the flowers long dead. I walked up to it and bent down to better get a look at what was written on it. A flash of light blinded me for a moment.

The problem with hitch-hiking in a known ghost spot is that no one particularly wants to give you a lift. I knew this, of course, before I packed a bag and trekked out to the main road to get a lift to the closest metropolis, but I did it anyway. I was dressed in my best jeans (no tears, only a little fraying and a couple of paint spots) and my best shirt. I took my hat off every time a car passed and I threw my thumb into the air. It didn’t work. It was as if I was completely invisible.