stove
Well-known member
Walking out of the airport, I could feel the eyes of drivers following me as they passed. High up in their SUVs, pickups, cars and van, they slowed, gaped, and drove past. I walked for a few miles, stopping off at a store to use half of my remaining three dollars to buy a snack. 40 miles, a drive through the canyon which normally takes 90 minutes, and I have two and a half hours to get back in time for work.
Out comes the thumb.
I walk down 85 for a few minutes, watching a car driving in the opposite direction. Did they just pull a U-turn? I dismiss it as a crazy idea. A minute later, a black convertible pulls up, with three kids inside. Without really inquiring, I hope in the back seat, trusting my luck. The driver, a girl who's name I can't remember, asks where I'm going. The other two boys introduce themselves (A boyfriend and a cousin, one was named Cody). We talk about life, I ask if I can get a lift up to 191, hoping to get a ride there directly back to Big Sky. The talk turns to work, and then drinking, then drugs. The driver pulls out a small pipe and some good grass, and five minutes later we are all midly blazed.
I've hitched stoned before, with Wayland in Belguim, and in Amsterdam, but that was somehow different. I wasn't sure how easy it would be to get a ride while stoned, but what the hell, you only live once.
I ask where they are from, and promptly get "we're f*king HOMELESS!" shouted with such elation it makes me smile. It's nice to hear that everyone isn't stuck in the vicious cycle of de-education and work our society impresses upon us.
After some good chatter, it becomes obvious (least because they keep expressing out) that everyone else is riddiculously blazed. Personally, I smoke enough that two hits isn't going to blow me away, but I don't need to mention that. No reason to damp their high.
Getting out at a gas station, already miles up the canyon, we part way. I quickly throw on a coat and guzzle some water and snacks, both out of hunger and to mask the odor of what I've just smoked. I cross the street and begin walking into Gallatin canyon, already miles past the last bus stop, a bus which will come by in hours. I am stil trusting my luck.
Half a dozen cars pass in the five minutes or so I am walking. A pickup truck slows and swerves, stopping a few feet from me. Again, without really asking, I hop in. The driver is talking on a speakerphone, to someone whom sounds like his friend. Later, I learn that it is his brother, whom recently had an upper-body injury, so bad that he could not hold his rifle nor his bow. What a shame?
From this second driver, I get a lift directly into Big Sky, and half way up the mountain road. He is a classic midwest conservative, with a .306 hunting rifle (with bipod and 4x scope) leaning gently in the front seat between us. We discuss the war, politics, and his views on the current affairs of the US. Long ago, I learned to listen and respond, without pushing my own opinion too hard. I mention some friends, trips, plans, and life in general. Despite our political and opinionated differences, we have a great talk.
Two minutes after exiting his pickup, a Ford SUV slows and stops, nearly running me off the road. The driver piles some junk in the back as I open the door, this time inquiring as to his destination. "Headed up-mountain?" I ask. "Yup," is a reply good enough for me. I learn that my third driver grew up in Big Sky, and owns some condos in the area which he is fixing up. I consider pushing my desire for a bit of sideline cash, but don't need the extra dough at the moment, and will instead enjoy my freedom. ten minutes later I am dropped off at the front of my building.
I really miss the road. Meeting random people, the intoxicating freedom, the unknown adventure, the faith and trust placed in others. It's truly wonderful.
Anywho, just food for thought/
Out comes the thumb.
I walk down 85 for a few minutes, watching a car driving in the opposite direction. Did they just pull a U-turn? I dismiss it as a crazy idea. A minute later, a black convertible pulls up, with three kids inside. Without really inquiring, I hope in the back seat, trusting my luck. The driver, a girl who's name I can't remember, asks where I'm going. The other two boys introduce themselves (A boyfriend and a cousin, one was named Cody). We talk about life, I ask if I can get a lift up to 191, hoping to get a ride there directly back to Big Sky. The talk turns to work, and then drinking, then drugs. The driver pulls out a small pipe and some good grass, and five minutes later we are all midly blazed.
I've hitched stoned before, with Wayland in Belguim, and in Amsterdam, but that was somehow different. I wasn't sure how easy it would be to get a ride while stoned, but what the hell, you only live once.
I ask where they are from, and promptly get "we're f*king HOMELESS!" shouted with such elation it makes me smile. It's nice to hear that everyone isn't stuck in the vicious cycle of de-education and work our society impresses upon us.
After some good chatter, it becomes obvious (least because they keep expressing out) that everyone else is riddiculously blazed. Personally, I smoke enough that two hits isn't going to blow me away, but I don't need to mention that. No reason to damp their high.
Getting out at a gas station, already miles up the canyon, we part way. I quickly throw on a coat and guzzle some water and snacks, both out of hunger and to mask the odor of what I've just smoked. I cross the street and begin walking into Gallatin canyon, already miles past the last bus stop, a bus which will come by in hours. I am stil trusting my luck.
Half a dozen cars pass in the five minutes or so I am walking. A pickup truck slows and swerves, stopping a few feet from me. Again, without really asking, I hop in. The driver is talking on a speakerphone, to someone whom sounds like his friend. Later, I learn that it is his brother, whom recently had an upper-body injury, so bad that he could not hold his rifle nor his bow. What a shame?
From this second driver, I get a lift directly into Big Sky, and half way up the mountain road. He is a classic midwest conservative, with a .306 hunting rifle (with bipod and 4x scope) leaning gently in the front seat between us. We discuss the war, politics, and his views on the current affairs of the US. Long ago, I learned to listen and respond, without pushing my own opinion too hard. I mention some friends, trips, plans, and life in general. Despite our political and opinionated differences, we have a great talk.
Two minutes after exiting his pickup, a Ford SUV slows and stops, nearly running me off the road. The driver piles some junk in the back as I open the door, this time inquiring as to his destination. "Headed up-mountain?" I ask. "Yup," is a reply good enough for me. I learn that my third driver grew up in Big Sky, and owns some condos in the area which he is fixing up. I consider pushing my desire for a bit of sideline cash, but don't need the extra dough at the moment, and will instead enjoy my freedom. ten minutes later I am dropped off at the front of my building.
I really miss the road. Meeting random people, the intoxicating freedom, the unknown adventure, the faith and trust placed in others. It's truly wonderful.
Anywho, just food for thought/
