Oof - glad your friend got out of it unmolested (…no pun intended, I swear). Given everyone came out ok, chalk this one up to live and learn.

Since there’s nothing better than a close call story, are there any you’d like to share? Feel free to balance it out with one of the fun stories as well if you want (since close call stories, as well as sheer bad outcome stories, colour a lot people’s impressions about hitching).

I think there’s people who look at ‘traveller’ as an identity, much like a lot of folks do with other interests. I’d argue there’s some classism involved as well, as travel is a status symbol. However, there’s also the (frankly true) idea that travel can broaden your perspective as you meet people from different cultures living life slightly (or dramatically) differently than you do at home.

Ultimately, people who deride people with little travel experience are rude. A better approach is to encourage people who voice an interest in travel but seem uncertain. There’s also something to be said about a solid knowledge and appreciation of one’s own backyard and community.

I’ve personally only hitchhiked twice.

The first time isn’t all that interesting. I was camping with my parents as a teen. I was a smoker at the time and had ran out of cigarettes. My parents didn’t know about (or were deliberately ignoring) my habit. The closest place that sold smokes was about a two hour hike away. So I told everyone at camp I was going for a hike and hoofed my way there. I managed to finangle a couple packs of cigarettes, but was at a loss - I knew I was going to be in shit if I just disappeared and returned four hours later. I decided to try my luck and stuck my thumb out. After about 15 minutes, I got picked up by some guy in a pick-up, pretty chill. Got dropped off at my camp with no one the wiser.

Again, not interesting in itself, but was a “Whoa, some people actually do pick up hitchhikers these days” learning moment.

Second story is only slightly more interesting:
Still a teen (about 16-17 I think?) living in Victoria, BC. A friend who had moved to the mainland had come back to visit. One evening, I asked “Hey, have you ever been to Saltspring Island?” He said no, and it was decided among our crew that this would change the next morning, since none of us had visited.

Saltspring is one of the southern gulf islands off the coast of Vancouver Island, about a half-hour ferry ride from Victoria. Naturally, as my mother would be quite concerned that her son was going on an ocean voyage, I spared her the worry and simply didn’t tell her. Three of my friends and I got on the first ferry of the day and made it to Fulford Harbour.

Now, Saltspring didn’t have a bus service, and while there is a taxi company it’s pretty expensive. So as my friends were starting to worry about how we were going to get anywhere interesting, I stuck my thumb out. My visiting friend stared at me like I was insane.

“You have to be joking.”
“Dude, just trust me on this one.”
“No one in their right mind is going to pick up four random guys.”

A couple minutes after he said this, a sedan pulled over. Suddenly, all of us were crammed in with this delightful seventy year old woman, telling us about the local artisan she was visiting and the sizeable artistic community on Saltspring. She dropped us off in Ganges, the main town on the island. We spent the rest of the day puttering around, smoking terrible green pressed hash we bought off some kid there (who took us on a small tour that ended at a glass shop for a pipe, disappearing by the time we made our purchase), and generally having a pretty chill time.

Eventually, it was time to go. We struck up some discussions with folks in a parking lot near the edge of town. There was a guy with a passenger van that seemed promising, but unfortunately he already had some hitchhikers and couldn’t take us. There was another couple who was willing to take us, but only had room for two passengers. After some debate, we split up and left the other two to finangle their own ride.

Originally, the couple said they would drop us off at the ferry terminal, but after a little while they changed their mind and dropped us off in front of a yoga retreat. We were there for about an hour and a half.

Now I was starting to get worried. If we didn’t make it to the ferry by the last trip, we were capital ‘F’ fucked. None of our parents knew where we were, we had no place to stay, we had no idea how the other guys were faring, etc. Finally, a passenger van stops. It’s the same guy from before, only now with more room and the other two guys in tow. Apparently, they’d talked to him again, and came to some arrangement where he’d come back and get them. Everyone involved was pretty relieved.

So we made it back to the harbour, got on the boat, returned to Victoria and made our respective ways home. My mom greeted me with the following:
“DID YOU GO TO SALTSPRING ISLAND?!”
“What? No! Why would I go to Saltspring Island?”
“I didn’t know where you were, so I called [friend who didn’t come with us] and he said he thought you and your other friends were going to Saltspring!”
“What? All four of us going to an island 30 minutes into the ocean, with little money and no car? That’s crazy, who would do that?”

I don’t think I’ve ever fessed up to my mom to this day.

There’s merit to this. One of the beautiful things about this era is it’s cheap as fuck (compared to other eras of history) to make and put out cool shit. Hell, we had a kid in town a few years back make a feature-length horror film with their phone that got screened at the indie theatre here. But you’ve got to dig and deal with the Sturgeon’s Law factor to find gems among all the cruft out there.

Also noted that folks may want the mainstream entertainment of old, but real talk - once you’re a certain age/level of experience, there’s a good chance you’re not part of the mainstream audience. Large groups don’t make the stuff you like because you’re not the target audience anymore, and four-quadrant approaches are dealing with a very different audience than they used to.

Been thinking about this quote from Terrence McKenna a lot recently (might seem a little quaint in the face of today’s media landscape, but I take away a good message):

We have to create culture, don’t watch TV, don’t read magazines, don’t even listen to NPR. Create your own roadshow. The nexus of space and time where you are now is the most immediate sector of your universe, and if you’re worrying about Michael Jackson or Bill Clinton or somebody else, then you are disempowered, you’re giving it all away to icons, icons which are maintained by an electronic media so that you want to dress like X or have lips like Y.

This is shit-brained, this kind of thinking. That is all cultural diversion, and what is real is you and your friends and your associations, your highs, your orgasms, your hopes, your plans, your fears. And we are told ‘no’, we’re unimportant, we’re peripheral. ‘Get a degree, get a job, get a this, get a that.’ And then you’re a player, you don’t want to even play in that game. You want to reclaim your mind and get it out of the hands of the cultural engineers who want to turn you into a half-baked moron consuming all this trash that’s being manufactured out of the bones of a dying world.