In August and September 1972, my friend Bruce and I went on a two-week cross country trip from Cleveland to the west coast and back. We traveled by thumb, which is to say that we hitchhiked our way one ride at a time. Click HERE to read a short introduction about our fantastic journey.
We traveled from Cleveland to Williams Arizona in the first couple of days of our trip. This story is part of a series.
We traveled from Cleveland to Williams Arizona in the first couple of days of our trip. This story is part of a series.
“Back in my day” – the late 60s/early 70s – we would hitch a ride if we didn’t have a car (or knew someone who did). Most of my hitchhiking was around the east side of Cleveland, which was where I grew up. I don't remember the first time I hitched a ride, but it must have been in my mid-teens. I do, however, remember my most memorable hitchhiking experience – cross country to the Grand Canyon and San Francisco, and then back home through Lake Tahoe. I made this trip, about 5,300 miles, with my friend Bruce.
I’ve shared parts of my two-week odyssey many times with family and friends, and now, 47 years later, I’ve written my story to share with a broader audience.
I’ve shared parts of my two-week odyssey many times with family and friends, and now, 47 years later, I’ve written my story to share with a broader audience.
“I've been everywhere, man
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the desert's bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel I've a'had my share, man
I've been everywhere”
~ Johnny Cash, from I’ve Been Everywhere
I've been everywhere, man
Crossed the desert's bare, man
I've breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel I've a'had my share, man
I've been everywhere”
~ Johnny Cash, from I’ve Been Everywhere
Bruce and I were getting ready to head back to college - his junior year at Northwestern University and my sophomore year at the University of Cincinnati. We wanted to go on a memorable trip before school started in mid-September. This would be my first trip on my own, as all the trips I’d taken to this point were with my family or chaperones. Neither of us had a car, so we fell back on something we both had done - hitchhike.
We didn’t do a lot of planning. We knew what we wanted to see (the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, and Lake Tahoe) and how long we could be gone (no more than two weeks). The closest thing to a Google Map back then was a TripTik from AAA. Bruce’s parents must have been members of AAA, because he secured a TripTik for us. The image here isn’t our TripTik – rather, it's a picture I pulled from that modern convenience, the internet. I don't know why we thought we could do this, but we did. "Young and dumb," perhaps!
We didn’t do a lot of planning. We knew what we wanted to see (the Grand Canyon, San Francisco, and Lake Tahoe) and how long we could be gone (no more than two weeks). The closest thing to a Google Map back then was a TripTik from AAA. Bruce’s parents must have been members of AAA, because he secured a TripTik for us. The image here isn’t our TripTik – rather, it's a picture I pulled from that modern convenience, the internet. I don't know why we thought we could do this, but we did. "Young and dumb," perhaps!
We gathered our “stuff”, which was pretty basic: For me, a sleeping bag, a second pair of jeans, a few t-shirts, a couple pairs of socks and underwear, a few cans of food and some snacks, and basic toiletries. I also packed a small hunting knife, which proved invaluable for opening the canned food, as we forgot to bring a can opener! Bruce pretty much packed the same. He didn’t own a sleeping bag, so I lent mine to him and borrowed a sleeping bag from another buddy. I pocketed $50, which must have been my life’s savings – five worn “Hamiltons,” as I recall. With $50 in my pocket for a two-week trip, I had no choice but to be frugal.
Here I must confess. I didn’t tell my parents that we were hitchhiking across the country. Rather, I told them that we were driving in a car. That wasn't an outright lie, mind you, as we would make the trip in cars. Right? I also didn’t tell them that we intended to go to the west coast. They never asked, so I never said. More rationalization! As the saying goes, “it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Anyway, what could my parents do after the fact? I was heading off to college in a few weeks, so it wasn't like they could ground me or anything.
Here I must confess. I didn’t tell my parents that we were hitchhiking across the country. Rather, I told them that we were driving in a car. That wasn't an outright lie, mind you, as we would make the trip in cars. Right? I also didn’t tell them that we intended to go to the west coast. They never asked, so I never said. More rationalization! As the saying goes, “it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Anyway, what could my parents do after the fact? I was heading off to college in a few weeks, so it wasn't like they could ground me or anything.
The First Ride We Thumbed
We did have a ride to start our journey, as Bruce’s brother had a car and he was driving from Cleveland to St. Louis to start his junior year at George Washington University. That was the easy part of our plan!
Our hitchhiking adventure started on an on-ramp for I-44 in downtown St. Louis, where we waited…and waited…and waited to catch a ride. Was that the wrong place for someone to stop? Was our hair too long? (I had a picked-out Afro back then.) Was it rush hour and every driver too anxious to get home? Just as early evening was turning to night, a car stopped, the window came down, and the fellow inside asked where we were headed and whether we would be willing to drive. You see, he was in the service and had to get back to his base in California in a couple of days, and he needed someone to share round-the-clock driving with. And like that, we had our first ride, and what a great first ride it was, as we rode it all the way to Williams, a gateway town to the Grand Canyon.
I don’t remember the guy’s name, so I’ll call him "Tom." But here's what I do remember about him: He was a stickler on speed. Tom made a point of telling us (many times) that we must not drive faster than 60 MPH, as that was the speed he thought gave him the best fuel economy. We took turns driving, and from time to time when Bruce or I were at the wheel and Tom was asleep, he would open an eye, look at the speedometer, and sternly remind us to “keep it at 60!” Oklahoma City was the terminus for I-44, and from there we continued driving west on I-40.
We stopped for breakfast at a roadside diner somewhere in the panhandle of Texas. Tom didn’t offer to buy breakfast for us, so we were on our own. I was mindful of my limited funds, but fortunately, in those days, breakfast out didn’t cost much – less than $2 for two eggs, coffee, and toast. Those were the days, my friends!
A little more than 24 hours after Tom picked us up, he dropped us off at the side of the road near Williams. We had traveled about 1,400 miles from St. Louis, almost 30% of our total trip on one ride. We were off to a great start!
We did have a ride to start our journey, as Bruce’s brother had a car and he was driving from Cleveland to St. Louis to start his junior year at George Washington University. That was the easy part of our plan!
Our hitchhiking adventure started on an on-ramp for I-44 in downtown St. Louis, where we waited…and waited…and waited to catch a ride. Was that the wrong place for someone to stop? Was our hair too long? (I had a picked-out Afro back then.) Was it rush hour and every driver too anxious to get home? Just as early evening was turning to night, a car stopped, the window came down, and the fellow inside asked where we were headed and whether we would be willing to drive. You see, he was in the service and had to get back to his base in California in a couple of days, and he needed someone to share round-the-clock driving with. And like that, we had our first ride, and what a great first ride it was, as we rode it all the way to Williams, a gateway town to the Grand Canyon.
I don’t remember the guy’s name, so I’ll call him "Tom." But here's what I do remember about him: He was a stickler on speed. Tom made a point of telling us (many times) that we must not drive faster than 60 MPH, as that was the speed he thought gave him the best fuel economy. We took turns driving, and from time to time when Bruce or I were at the wheel and Tom was asleep, he would open an eye, look at the speedometer, and sternly remind us to “keep it at 60!” Oklahoma City was the terminus for I-44, and from there we continued driving west on I-40.
We stopped for breakfast at a roadside diner somewhere in the panhandle of Texas. Tom didn’t offer to buy breakfast for us, so we were on our own. I was mindful of my limited funds, but fortunately, in those days, breakfast out didn’t cost much – less than $2 for two eggs, coffee, and toast. Those were the days, my friends!
A little more than 24 hours after Tom picked us up, he dropped us off at the side of the road near Williams. We had traveled about 1,400 miles from St. Louis, almost 30% of our total trip on one ride. We were off to a great start!