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Last month's story was well received, so let's explore some other themes in the framework of a story. Where last month I touched on fortune (good and bad) this month there are themes of trust and bonding to explore. I hope again there's a message here for everyone to identify with - that is, after all, the substance of a good story. This one was brought to my mind again by a recent discussion on the usenet about beer and hitch-hiking.
This time last year I found myself standing at a junction on the Sturt Highway some 6 kilometres out of Robinvale in the middle of the New South Wales Nowhere, thumbing my way from Adelaide to Canberra. I'd had a bad day the day before covering only a few hundred kilometres and was keen to reach Wagga Wagga today. This old car pulled up at the junction, coming out of Robinvale, and stood their blinking to turn right, waiting for a chance to turn onto the highway. But there was no traffic at all on the highway - I don't know what they were waiting for. I watched them intently, thinking they were looking me over. The driver's window winds down and this guy shouts out "Do you drink beer?" I wasn't sure I'd heard right, I was standing on the highway some twenty or thirty metres away, but I shouted back "Yes!" qualifying it with a "What?" thinking I'd misunderstood the question. He shouted back "Do you drink beer?" "Yes!? What?" I shouted back. He pulls around the corner, turning right onto the highway and pulling to a stop in front of me, where he leans over his passenger and says rather unambiguously now, "Do you drink beer?" "Sure, who doesn't?" I retorted, and he thrusts a beer into my hand and throws the back door open, saying, "Good, 'cause if you don't drink beer, you're not getting a ride ..." The passenger is quiet, a wry smile on his face. He knew what was going on, I had yet to work it out, but now I sat in the back with a beer in my hand, and two salty old bearded tramps in the front, heading down the highway towards Balranald. Well, they weren't actually going to Balranald. They had a camp some kilometres off the main highway, and about 25 km down the road from here. They invited me to stay the night at the camp, they'd have a fire going, and some music, and would take me into Balranald the next morning if I liked (some 50 km further down the road from the camp). I wasn't keen. It was still mid-afternoon, I was running a day later than I'd expected already, and could cover much ground on the way to Wagga Wagga today, which is where I was in fact aiming to spend the night if I could only get there. Besides, these two characters didn't much radiate "trust me" somehow.
For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Bernd Wechner's Hitchhiking topic, please visit the Discussions page. |
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