My luck continued. After hiking out of the mountains, I got a ride as
soon as I started hitchhiking. I stood in groups of hitchhikers and
still managed rides. There were always two or three people hitchhiking
at every stop. I even met a guy who said he had walked across
Saskatchewan. I didn’t know why I wasn’t one of those stranded, but I
did know that I would never hitchhike the trans-Canada again.
A couple of days ago, I was at an exit where seven people were waiting
for a ride. It was around midnight, and I had just been dropped off. I
took one look at all the long faces, and I knew my luck had run out. I
decided to spend the night over in the grass, on the other side of the
gas station, but I thought first I would think about it over a cup of
coffee. When, after drinking my coffee, I walked out of the restaurant
and glanced over at where the group of hitchhikers should have been
standing, I saw no one. As I walked up to the highway, I found some of
the guys crashed in a ditch while the others had just plain
disappeared. I was the only hitchhiker at the exit and to make things
even better, a sixteen-year-old girl, Wendy, got dropped off, and we
hitchhiked out of there together.
Jean, John, and Olive picked up Wendy and me. They were on their way to Toronto, which was Wendy’s destination. We had scored a three-day ride that would take us all the way home. (I would depart when the Trans Canada touched upper Michigan at Sault Saint Marie.) On the highway, we passed dozens and dozens of hitchhikers, and after driving nonstop for twenty-one hours, we stopped for a few beers at a Hotel pub. After drinking the beers, John didn’t want to drive anymore, so we all stayed at the Hotel.