Hitch Hiking to California
by Nate Bender
12/12/2013
If life isn’t a learning experience, it would likely be a bit boring, yes? This short story captures my ever-growing learnings contained in new adventures.
First, a little background surrounding my hitch hiking story. In May, 1963, I was graduated from Ellsworth Junior College, in Iowa Falls, Iowa, after less than a stellar level of academic and athletic performance. Graduation held a bitter-sweet taste. I was disappointed in my overall performance, yet was awarded the “E” Blanket in being recognized as the Athlete of the Year for having “given his all” while competing in football, basketball and baseball. At that point I had advanced farther scholastically than anyone in my family’s history, yet did not feel ready to complete my undergraduate studies.
During these two years I was strongly influenced by the election of President John F. Kennedy, who projected idealistic themes and their range of possibilities. His inauguration day admonishment to “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country” stirred up new energies for me outside of the realm of athletics, and far beyond the conservative underpinnings of my home community.
During my last semester, I had come upon Peace Corps literature in the school’s library, and an inspiring possibility for fulfilling Kennedy’s call. Promptly, I filled out the application forms and sent them off, consulting with no one, while following my own instincts.
Not knowing if I had a chance to be accepted into the Peace Corps, I made plans to hitch hike to California with a fellow team mate from Boston. Bob Wilcinski was a big city guy with a brash New England manner who had a friend attending California Institute of Technology, in Pasadena. His proposal was for us to hitch hike to California; I would then help them drive his friend’s car back to Boston, dropping me off in Iowa.
As my life kept unfolding, I went from the graduation ceremony to my room to secure my travel gear and check the mail. Lo and behold, my Peace Corps envelop had arrived, notifying me to report to a three month training class at the University of Minnesota in two months! Since I had committed to the cross country hike, I set out with Bob in the early afternoon of graduation day, and quickly hailed a farmer for our first ride. A series of subsequent rides got us to Joplin, Missouri, late at night. Standing along Route 66 for what seemed like hours into the early morning in Joplin, a blue Edsel car stopped and the driver offered us a ride. George was his name and a friendly man he was. He invited us to his house to catch up on our sleep, and offered to take us out to the road later that morning to resume our trek.
Being a somewhat sheltered, naïve country boy, and feeling safe in Bob’s more worldly ways, we accepted George’s invitation. We quickly fell asleep in his guest room. At some point later on, George came into our room and shared his sexual orientation. I was completely unaware of the existence of homosexuality. My perceptual field suddenly became more complex, shattering my innate trust of people’s good intentions. Since George’s inclinations were not part of our agenda and interests, we asked George to promptly drive us out to the highway, which he did. I have a vivid memory of George’s parting words: “I’m sorry for having offended you guys, and for being the way I am.” My anxiety and confusion were suddenly replaced with feelings of sadness and pity.
In the dawning of a new day and a fresh start, we quickly hailed a fortuitous new ride, which became the highlight of our journey. A traveling businessman, en route to Phoenix, Arizona, driving a luxury Lincoln Continental car, found it beneficial to have company on his long trip. He seemed to enjoy our company and even offered to pay for at least one meal along the way. Conversations became long, covering a wide range of social, educational and political topics. Not having ever ridden in a luxury car, no less driven one, it was with great enthusiasm that I jumped at his offer to share driving. What an experience it was to shepherd this big, quiet car, down route 66!
Once arriving in Phoenix, we were offered a parting meal and then were deposited at a strategic location for securing our next ride. In short order, a young man in a new, red Chevy offered us a ride to Barstow, California, a remote, desert town, but still not Los Angeles. At night, Barstow seemed to be a daunting, unfriendly place, offering no chances for a ride to our final destination. We discovered a bus depot near our drop off point, and promptly bought a ticket for the final leg of our journey. Sleep came quickly in the cozy confines of a Greyhound bus. We arrived at the Los Angeles terminal shortly after sun rise, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction in having completed the first phase of our trip.
I’d been to Los Angeles two years earlier, so the sights, sounds and even smells felt like coming home again. It would be a place to which I would eventually return six months later. Our two day stay in the Los Angeles area suburb of Pasadena offered me time to complete my Peace Corps information forms and turn them in at the local Federal building. In short order, Bob, his friend and I piled into a beat up 1953 Chevy, fully loaded with “stuff.” We drove non-stop, alternating drivers every two hours, stopping only for gas and food, as well as for adding oil. The car was on its last leg, exuding blue smoke fumes along the way.
It seemed like we arrived in Iowa very quickly. We bid each other farewell, each going his separate way, never again to have contact. The Peace Corps experience awaited me, offering another stretch to my growth and development, and holding no clue of the eventual outcomes beforehand. That’s another story into reaping rewards gleaned from setbacks.
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