Most experences while I was travling were wonderful, enlightning in some way and enjoyable. The worst unconfortable social interactions were unwanted sexual advances from strangers picking you up. Never violent, just unconfortable. But there were times the advances were welcome also. What a era…
For me, any violence inflicted on me, seemed to stem from and limited to, predjudice amoung the locals toward hippies in certain parts of the country. Hair too long, wearing an earing, language (If you can dig that man) and what I always felt as a true hatred for anyone actually acting free in this free country. My, how very little has changed really. If you would like to learn more about those wonderful times.Read Hunga Dunga by Phil Polizatto his book is truthful, without the nastalgic infused interpretations that seem, too often, the prism thru which authors write about that era.
And remember always, When you see your brother and or sister traveler along the road. We are all “We” really need. Pick them up, share your ride and share a moment. Peace!
And to Hippie, Peaches and Mona… You are always with me… I did loose the spoon rings back in the 80’s though, and can’t remember where.
By GINGER STRAND,nytimes.com – ONE of the more dramatic measures to keep New Yorkers moving after Hurricane Sandy’s transit meltdown was mandatory car-pooling on bridges into Manhattan. Commuters griped about gridlock at checkpoints, and drivers were shocked by Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg’s suggestion that they pick up strangers. Potential passengers, too, were reluctant to get in cars with people they didn’t know. Some drivers were scrambling to find riders to meet the quota. Everyone was relieved when the car-pooling “nightmare” came to an end.
But casual car-pooling should be the norm. Part of the problem is that we have become pathologically averse to anything resembling hitchhiking. Once I picked up a man who was thumbing near a broken-down car in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. My mother is still dismayed. She’d be even more upset to learn that I recently tried to hitchhike across Oakland, Calif. (Don’t call Mom; no one stopped.) She raised me to believe, as most people do, that hitchhiking was something dangerous that hippies did back in the day. It was reckless, and it’s now — rightly — dead.
But hitching didn’t die a natural death — it was murdered. And there’s little evidence that it was as dangerous as we think. Our fear of thumbing a ride stems not from the facts but from a carefully calculated publicity campaign begun by the F.B.I. and continued by law enforcement agencies across the nation. The end result is that we have largely turned our backs on the obvious efficiencies — for our wallets as well as the planet — of ride-sharing. And we have lost a way to humanize the landscape of the road.
Hippies did not invent hitchhiking. Before the Second World War, it was a common practice for people in all walks of life. Hollywood films often had cute hitchhiking scenes like the one in “It Happened One Night,” where Claudette Colbert flashes a leg to get a ride. Magazines like Sports Illustrated declared it fun to thumb a ride and, during the war, picking up soldiers was nothing less than a patriotic duty. Even the etiquette doyenne Emily Post gave hitching a green light in the 1940s, offering tips on how to keep the conversation light and impersonal. More…