Initiation

My first hitch-hiking experience, back in October of 2007

This last weekend I hitch hiked from Burgerville (Newberg, OR) to Seattle. Due to the fact that I've told this story 20 plus times, I am writing a note so I can just refer people to facebook.
Setting:
I had ants in my pants... I mean I really wanted... to go home. My little brother had a football game and I wanted to impress my immediate family with my awesome facial hair.
The Ride:
Shortly after posting on Bruinboards, I got a ride offer from someone who will remain nameless. Problem was, she wasn't leaving until 5. So I did the nice thing and offered her an extra $10 (on top of $20) to skip her last class. To which she replied...
"I really don't feel comfortable skipping class, but I'll meet you as soon as it's over in the HMS lobby at 20 till 5. I'm sorry, but I don't what my prof would do, and don't want to risk it!"
The inspiration:
I decided that I had acquired a ride with a fox special. A fox special is a George Fox student with a background including at least 3 but not necessarily all of the following aspects: homeshooled, ultra-conservative, completely adhering to authority, never-been-kissed... that should cover the majority of fox specials. I was forced to revert to an ulterior, almost savage alternative. My best roommate, Ryan Farley, had tales of hitch hiking to canada, california, and back. "Best thing I've ever done", he said. So at 2:30 on an October Friday, I decided to use a little ingenuity, a little inspiration, and a little elbow grease to get shtuff done.
The ingenuity:
People don't want to pick up any old schmuck off the road, so I put some real effort into my appearance. I decided to go with my orange "ORPHAN" shirt, as well as a sign that read "Seattle or Bust"... Having topped it off with a Cubs hat, I ventured down to Burgerville... to help my all-American image.
The elbow grease:
Someone once said the beauty of fishing lies in the cast... I found that the beauty of hitch hiking lies in the juggling. Yes, I juggled 3 baseballs as I waited for my first ride. I don't know if you've ever seen that gay, gleeful smile I get when I'm absolutely satisfied with something I've created, but I was wearing it. My operation worked like magic, as I got my first ride before 2 light revolutions, a total of 3 minutes.
"Want a ride to Portland"? A couple cable guys were just getting off work. We detoured to Beaverton to drop off Andrew - a pitcher in the Rangers organization for 3 years (see how the baseballs worked out?). We talked some baseball, some racism, and some rap. Then it was just "D" and I, on our way to Jantzen Beach. D happened to be of African descent, which plays into my story. He decided we could save 1/2 hour by detouring off of I5 through NE Portland. Down Mississippi Street he pointed out which blocks were owned by which gangs, where to get your dimebag, and the fact that "the media is out to make you think that you'll get shot if you come out here, when in fact that only happens if you screw with the "code of the street"... D was awesome, and after some heart to heart on the birth of his daughter changing his life and his self absorbed ex-wife ("I got custody now"), I respected him and was thankful for the tour of black Portland. He let me off next to I5, just before the border.
Washington beats Oregon (less sales tax):
This time it took 7 minutes to get a ride. I was getting that stranded, excited feeling when Eric pulled over. My arms were tired of juggling and I didn't mind sitting in the same seat as his dog.
First impression:
Eric was 26. He had a nappy beard, tattoos, an ash tray full of cigarette butts, a box of Remington shells, and a giving heart. Hitch hiking makes you realize how people either a) aren't generous or b) are too scared/lame to do something awesome and different with their day.
Didn't give the gun shells a second thought...:
Eric was a hippy type hunter. Here are his special characteristics: he hitchhiked for two years (to Boston and back more than once), he worked for an environmentalist logging company, and he rocked out to Folk music. I was down. After stopping at a gas station i noticed a bicycle tattooed to his knuckle. He said he'd biked down the Oregon Cost on the 101 - exactly what Bo, Brett, Kyle, and whoever else and I are doing this summer! You've got to love those moments that make you believe in Destiny.
100 miles to go:
We talked about football, hunting, dogs, George Bush, the fact that attitude means more than attire, whether to take the 405 or the I5, 107.7 The End, and the notion that people are unnecessarily paranoid about hitch hiking (just like D, he blamed the media). I couldn't help falling asleep for10 minutes, which coupled with the Remington shells is kind of scary, but whatever. After I woke he had his 4th cigarette, and I couldn't help it anymore. So I asked him for one. Nasty Nate Brown, hitch hiking down I5 for a little ingenuity and 10 minutes of waiting... and getting a free cigarette out of it all! Eric dropped me off at the ferry, Sarah the dog took a potty break, and I got a good handshake from a nice, introverted guy that just wanted a little company on his drive.
God bless:
Ryan Farley, hitch hiking, people who pick hitch hikers up, and the casino shuttle that got me into Poulsbo. And the poor people that work at McDonalds. And the Big Mac. And my friend Justin, who wants to hitch hike to California. I'm down, and you should be too.
My mom made me take the Greyhound back. Long live Michael Cera.