The start of my hitchhiking days

A half chapter from an autobiography

     I was with my trusted friend, his name was Kyle.  We had met about a month before and had been good friends ever since.  He was a hitch hiker going city to city and had just happened to land himself here in Reno, Nevada.  After talking to him about his travels and adventures I began to realize, there was restlessness inside of me and it was yearning for excitement, craving for the thrill and adrenaline of an adventure.

     We were in a city I was boringly familiar with named Reno, Nevada.  Kyle and I had decided it was time to go, time to leave this city to see the wonders of the world.  We only had one problem, where would our first stop be?  With only enough money to buy one bus ticket each, our first stop was one of our most important decisions.  He said. “Yellow” and I said “Green.”  I said, “Blue” and He said, “Red.”

     As my friend and I stood there debating I could not help turning my focus to the beauties of the river.  It glistened with miracles only the luckiest fish could know; it whispered secrets of what was upstream only the bravest would find; although I do believe the most important thing it was telling me was, that it was time, time to be free, time to live, time to yell from the highest mountain top and trek through the deepest forest.  This new found energy, this spirit, seemed to take me over. 

     I found myself a couple of days, what felt like only moments, later, in one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, known as San Francisco.  The streets were alive, they were crowded and everyone seemed happy.  The buildings were not only bigger than anything I have ever seen but in such abundance, that it was breath taking. 

     As quick as my decision to leave, was as quick as night fell on our first day.  I had never slept on the streets before.  I failed to realize when leaving that I was also leaving my bed, the heater in my house, the refrigerator stocked with food, the comfort that I, immersed in American Culture had taken for granted.

     We started to hunt for a comfortable place to sleep when about ten o’clock hit.  On our journey we met a man named, “Jedi;” he stood about six feet tall, in his late 30s, a scruffy beard every homeless man is destined to grow, he had a pony tail and slightly resembled the actor who played Obi One Kenobi in the very first star wars, I suppose that being where he got his name.  He welcomed us to a place we would soon call home, the very back of pier two. 

     The walk back there was very dark and smelled like a mixture of salty sea water and stale urine.  When we first turned the corner around a big wooden building, I was shocked and slightly frightened.  It was nothing like home, the smell of urine and now beer burned even more into my nose.  There was a fire burning like a bright orange light surrounded by homeless people.  They seemed to be cooking something, at that time, I could not have even imagined what.  When seeing the terror in my face Kyle reassured me, “It’s all good man, let’s go eat some crab.”

      When hearing those words I began to look around, there was a man; I would later come to know as, “Punk Rock Jim,” playing a guitar.  Playing with him was one of the best guitar players I have ever heard, even to this day, “Paul.”  There were a few more sitting around the fire, none more important than, “Apple.”

     Apple was the leader of the group.  He was in his late 50’s around 5’5 and Filipino.  His age showed through his eyes and the way he walked, although, his laugh, more of a high pitched screech, brought everyone together and stopped almost all disagreements.    More than likely that’s what originally made him take his leadership role. 

     I sat down next to the Bay the rolling water soothing my on edge mind.  The music playing so sweet like honey, comforting me and making the tension fade away.  Soon Apple sat next to me offering a fresh cooked crab off of a cracked and stained plate.  I thanked him, cracked the crab open and began to eat on a food that would soon become part of most of my daily meals.  It was not great and still tasted fairly strong of salt; with only a hint of the delicious meat I was accustomed to from restaurants.  After a few bites he cracked open a 40 oz beer and handed it to me saying, “Hey man you’re going to need something to wash that down.”  I laughed and thanked him. 

     After meeting a few more people, I started to feel welcomed.  There were people from all walks of life.  From drug addicts, to travelers, to people on the run from authorities but I made sure to greet everyone no matter how crazy or incoherent they were; a choice I would later learn to be a good one. 

     That night I slept like a baby.  That night I slept like I was home.

Author's Note

Review away! If you will.

Reviews

[David Scott]

I understand the deep calling to search. We each find our own way to satisfy the voice of this inner dragon. I think you have learned much already on your path. You have paid much as well. Education is never cheap...
There is a freedom in being where you chose to be and an entirely different "freedom" in being where your soul compels you to be.
Each path has a master and we are not it.
A great little window into this path is found in your story.

[Daniel Eckert]

I am taking a trip like this again. I have been staring at a blank screen trying to express the way I feel, and the reason why. You have done a better job doing that from a third person in a review comment than I have been able to do in 5 days. You are a very good writer.

[David Scott]

I think your writing is wonderful. Your imagination sparked any review.
I am a "thinker" Daniel... I'm learning to write what I think, but there is always a bit of ineptness in my writing skills. We can learn more together. I know your a "thinker" too.

[Daniel Eckert]

Yes, us "intellectual" types, as my friends call me, can have a hard time tapping into our creative sides at times. Or at least I do. I am always up for learning! I don't think there is a better use of time than to educate ourselves.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes we find home in the oddest places.

the hitchhiking, the restlessness and then the settling down on the pier--how cool

and the hitchhiking reminds me of the late 60's and early 70's when i was a college student. We thought nothing of putting the thumb out, or of picking up those looking for a ride...not so today...

this gave me some nostalgia..and has a nice open-ended, ending.

and the idea of the mix of people whom many would walk away from....they have hearts and they are people...just like us...and we are they...



jacob

[Daniel Eckert]

Thank you, Jacob. Sometimes I feel those days were where my spirit and soul was meant to be. I can only imagine the good times you had. As an English professor, especially one I am not taking a class from, compliments from you make me want to keep writing. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment. I do appreciate it.

[Leslie Philibert]

I really like autobiographical writing, especially about travel, especially from the United State, which somehow is the right place for it - I like this, a good write.

[Daniel Eckert]

Me too! Of course most of my reading of travelers in the united states was required for a class. I still enjoy picking them up now and again.

Thank you for your compliments and taking the time to read and review it. I appreciate it.

[sfrias]

Oh i really like this. It's not your typical story. it's something new. i really like it!!!

[Daniel Eckert]

Thank you for your kind words. It's nice to hear this doesn't feel typical. I was worried because of how many times the hitchhikers story has been told it might feel like a repeat to some. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment! I appreciate it.