November 6 #3
Well, this wasn’t exactly the adventure she’d been hoping for.
She’d left the resort with the GPS telling her that she would be on the I-90 highway in fifteen minutes and here she was three and half hours later with no satellite reception, no highway and no clue as to where the hell she was.
Montana was beautiful. She’d been staring at the landscape for long enough to know that with certainty.
Rolling hills and open fields, but no highway, and after a while everything started to look the same.
She couldn’t tell if she had seen that tree before.
How many times had she driven down the same road?
It was almost one in the afternoon on the first day of her trip and she was already in the predicament her cousins had feared.
An hour ago, she was still relatively calm, but as the minutes ticked by, she was becoming more panicked.
There was no cell reception and even if there was, who would she call?
“It’s okay,” she told herself. “You’re gonna find something or someone eventually. This is what life is all about. When it’s all over, you’re gonna be laughing about this. It’s not funny now. It’s really not funny now. It’s amazing how unfunny it is. But it will be. It will be very funny…someday.”
Sunshine came streaming through the windows making it difficult to see some of the faded road signs. Actually, it wasn’t sunshine. It was light raining from the heavens above. Sunshine implied warmth thus this was some kind of imposter trying to fulfill the duties of the sun and failing hopelessly.
Despite the fact that the heat was set on maximum in her tiny rental car, she was still cold. She was completely unprepared for this type of weather. Even in the heart of a South African winter, a sweater and a thick jacket were sufficient and now four layers of clothing were just not cutting it.
She blew hot air on one hand and then the other, slowing the car down so she could take note of every road sign.
She eventually spotted a sign for a gas station three miles down a road.
What a Godsend! A gas station meant people.
People meant she could ask someone for directions.
Three miles. 1 mile = 1.6093 kilometers.
Doing the math in her head, that was roughly 4.
83 kilometers. She’d be there in no time.
She followed the sign and turned left, letting out a breath of relief that she was finally back on track.
* * * * *
The shushing of the truck’s brakes jolted Kevin from his state of semi-consciousness.
He must have dozed off. He opened his eyes just in time to see Brady, the very friendly truck driver, pulling into a Cenex Quik Trip.
A day and a half had passed since he left home and he had only put about four hours of road behind him.
He was in Lockwood now, not even out of Montana yet.
He’d walked for over two hours yesterday before a family of four stopped and offered him a ride.
They drove him to the outskirts of town and he walked for another hour before he decided to book into a motel for the night.
After a light dinner, which he rationed so he could eat the rest for breakfast this morning, he’d done some research.
He checked out different bus routes to get to Florida.
He needed a back-up plan because this hitchhiking thing wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.
He’d also searched for tips for hitchhikers and made a mental list of the ones that seemed likely to work:
1) Always appear friendly and approachable
2) Maintain eye contact when talking to a driver to show you have nothing to hide
3) Don’t cover your face. Look presentable.
4) Don’t keep your hands in your pockets.
5) Don’t be rude to the driver.
6) Smile!
After reading the last one, he went back to looking at bus routes.
It was clear that he and hitchhiking weren’t going to get along.
This morning, however, those tips proved to be helpful.
He had only walked for about forty-five minutes before Brady picked him up.
He was a friendly guy, but just like Kevin, he was not a big fan of talking, which made the drive quiet yet companionable.
Brady was a family man. It was evident from the pictures of his wife and two kids that were stuck to the dashboard.
Based on one day and two rides, Kevin could conclude that family men were more sympathetic to his plight.
“All right,” Brady said, bringing the truck to a stop, “so you need to go back up this road right here and take the I-90 East. Now, I don’t know exactly how to get there, never been out that far, but as you go from place to place, you’ll figure out how to get to Florida.”
Kevin reached to the back and grabbed his two duffle bags. “Thanks a lot, Brady. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I would want someone to do the same for my son.”
Kevin smiled as he hopped out. Yep, family men were his best bet.
“You take care of yourself and have a safe trip.”
He watched the eighteen-wheeler drive out and gave some thought to his next move.
He could walk back down the road to the on-ramp, or just wait it out here at the gas station.
In the end, waiting at the station seemed to be the option with more advantages.
There was more likelihood of someone actually stopping here than at the on-ramp and because of the distance he was traveling, it also gave him the benefit of time to actually have a discussion with the driver.
He needed to find out exactly how far he could get before he jumped into the car with some stranger.
The other convenience was the store behind him if and when he needed refreshments. He had no idea how long he was going to wait before he found another willing driver.
It seemed like hours had passed. Eight drivers had pulled in and after brief discussions with them, Kevin was still left stranded.
All of them lived in or around Yellowstone County and none of them were even heading in his direction.
It was looking hopeless and he resolved that he would wait another hour and if he still didn’t have a ride, he would find a way to the nearest bus station.
If he remembered correctly, Brady had said that there was one about two miles away. He could walk if need be.
Taking a bus was a last resort. He wanted some control over where he went, where and when he stopped, and who he was stuck with for hours at a time.
The thought of sitting on those uncomfortable seats for days with nothing but ten minute stops along the way were enough of a deterrent.
A bus meant no showers, brushing his teeth in restrooms, sleeping in the station during a layover…
No. He liked his personal space too much and that was enough to make hitchhiking the more appealing alternative.
He would just have to take this day by day and see which options suited his needs at any specific point in his trip.
More minutes went by and he decided to go into the store to get a bottled water and maybe something to nibble on. He was hungry, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite to put down an entire meal.
He picked up his duffle bags and walked into the store. There was a short girl at the counter, a tiny little thing dressed like she’d been trekking through the artic. She must’ve had about twelve packets of Skittles on the counter in front of her. That was a serious sweet tooth.
Kevin walked past her to get to the fridges at the back of the store and took two bottles of water. After a moment’s thought, he took another bottle in case he needed to take that two mile stroll to the bus station.
“How do I get to the I-90?” the girl asked and it immediately caught his attention.
“Dear,” the man behind the counter responded with amusement, “you’re practically there. Did you not see the signs?”
“I’m not sure. The signs are all on the wrong side of the road.”
The cashier chuckled. “You mean the right side?”
“Which is the wrong side,” she replied almost helplessly.
Just from that small snippet of conversation and her accent, Kevin could tell that she wasn’t from around here.
“So what you have to do is get back on this road,” the cashier explained. “The Old U.S 87. Turn right at the first traffic light for the I-90 East and the second for the I-90 West.”
“That’s it?” she asked, sounding a little sheepish. “How did I miss that?”
Another chuckle burst out of him. “You were looking on the wrong side of the road. Where are you headed, little miss?”
“Georgia…Atlanta.”
It took a second for it to sink in and, when it did, Kevin almost dropped all three bottles of water.
Georgia? She was going all the way to Georgia?
That was, like, ninety percent of the way to Florida.
He could be there in a couple days. It was impossible.
His brain couldn’t even fathom the luck that he had just run into.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, he told himself.
She may not even agree to him tagging along with her. She didn’t know him. She could see him as some creepy weirdo and just drive off. He needed to play it cool.
“Thanks a lot, sir.” She shoved her Skittles into the pockets of her huge jacket and headed for the door.
Kevin quickly placed the bottles of water back in the fridge, flung his bags over his shoulder, and raced out after her.
Excitement was brimming inside him. What incredible luck.
He slowed his pace so that he didn’t come across as a deranged stalker ready to attack, but maintained a brisk walk to catch up to her before she got into her car.
She had just opened the door of her blue Prius when he tapped her on the shoulder.
She wildly spun around, a shrill gasp escaping her lips, and he had to grab her elbow to stop her from crashing to the floor.
Her light brown eyes were wide, filled with fear and surprise.