It wasn't a great hitching spot for a few reasons, but the exit we wanted to hitch from ended up being under construction. There was no where else we could legally hitch.
An old pickup truck went by, but didn't stop. A minute later it came back up the road and pulled over.
"Are you guys good on food?" A man as old and ragged as the truck said. He didn't seem to have a lot (of money or teeth), but he still tried to hand us a few dollar bills. "I just wanted make sure you boys had money to get yourselves some biscuits."
"Thank you, but we're good on food," Red said. "We're just trying to hitch west."
He wasn't going our way, but so many people who thought we were homeless or just down on our luck have tried to help us. Fifty-six hitches since the Atlantic Ocean and we've seen nothing but kindness.
Actually fifty-seven now. After an hour of trying to solicit a ride with a porn store fifty yards behind us, a man picked us up in a blue PT Cruiser.
"Where you headed?" he said.
"As far west as you can take us," I said. "Where are you going?"
"Our next stop is Denver."
He pondered it for a couple seconds then said, "Alright, get in. I'll get you to Denver."
I admit, at first, I thought there was something off about the guy. He seemed upset about something. He said he had health issues that we later discovered was bi-polar disorder due to his time in the military. Also, he wore a strange leather wrist cuff with metal loops and studs that clinked when he moved his arms, but what do I know about fashion anyway?
Turns out my concerns were only in my head. He was as friendly and good as the fifty-six drivers before him. And after talking with him on our 500 mile hitch, I realized he was not unlike us. He too left his old life behind to start something new. He too was heading west to live a dream that others told him was crazy. Only, instead of hiking a long distance trail like us, he was going west to become a sex slave for a gay couple in Sacramento that he met online.
To each their own I guess.