Confessions of a Professional Hitchhiker

Christina’s Rules For Hitchhiking:

1. Take ALL POSSIBLE MEASURES to avoid a hitchhiking situation in the first place.
2. Do not offer or accept any money. Conversely, have a good wad of pocket cash handy, just in case. 
3. Do not offer or accept any sexual favors. 
4. Establish dominance early on by making eye contact with your driver. If necessary, continue holding eye contact in the rearview mirror until the driver looks away. 
5. Always sit in the backseat. 
6. Arrange a safe, public place to be dropped off.
7. Stay alert. Stay suspicious. Name-drop often.

Written in my Notes app, 10:38 PM, July 8th, 2018. The night of my first performance. The show had been a smashing success, the entire restaurant packed out and encores and drunken fans and everything, and since then, I’d read the note before every ride as a good luck charm.

Hitchhiking was like the breath I took before an opening note: menacing and full of the anticipation from all your audience until the first few seconds are over and I become background noise to whatever musing they were preoccupied with before I came. For this reason, I felt safest with the most plexed drivers—men in suits on a cross-country drive to their next corporate meeting, college-age friend groups in a van they rented for the weekend, yoga-type millennials on their way to find themselves in the mountains.

And, tonight, it was twenty-something quarter-life looking crisis dude. Major history teacher vibes. Nerdy and unkempt, but harmless. 

“Hey, hey, where are you headed?” His voice was husky and breathy, like he was hiking a mountain with a heavy backpack.

“The Hartlynn Theater? It’s just a couple miles into town once you get off the highway. It’ll only be twenty or thirty minutes south, sir. I promise you.”

He hesitated, glanced around for a minute, then said, “alright. Hop in.”

“Awesome! Thank you.” And I bounced into the backseat before he could change his mind.  

Leaving now, I snapped a quick text to my best friend Mia. She was back in Hartlynn and agreed to come to my concert this weekend, but I don’t think she was too keen on how I got to these shows in the first place. I told her if either of us had a car, it would’ve been a different story, and that if tonight went well, that could change. 

“So, what brings you to the area tonight?” The driver asked several miles in. 

“Oh, you know, just meeting up with some friends up there. It’s a pretty cool area, you know.” I didn’t mention that this was a paid gig where I knew no one. 

“You from around here?” 

“Yeah, I was actually born in Hartlynn and lived here up through high school, but I’m in college now and thought I’d swing by for the weekend.” I had never been to Hartlynn in my entire life.

“Solid. I’ve been there a few times myself, just happened to be passing through on the way to my parents tonight. I’ll be there…”

His voice trailed off and his jaw clenched, and for several minutes, he said nothing. I let the silence diffuse, looking out the window and admiring the way the satin twilight framed the pine forest lining the side of the highway. My musician’s mind began to run wild with the romance of it all, looking into a dark forest at night while driving an empty road, gears turning and thoughts twisting to begin drafting a song in my head. This was always where I got inspiration for new songs: curled up in the corner of a backseat, resting my cheek in my hand, staring out the window into a world of stories waiting to be told, in songs waiting to be sung. I’d tried plan songs before, to sit in my cubicle’s desk and close my eyes and think. It had never worked. I needed to get out to find song ideas. I couldn’t leave it to my brain to make up a story when there were so many already out there. 

The car hopped a speed bump and it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a long time since either of us had spoken. A long, long time—longer than the drive to Hartlynn should have taken, according to my phone’s GPS. 

Send your location? I texted Mia. 

There’s a healthy balance of trust that must be exchanged when hitching a ride with a complete stranger; after all, if you’re trusting them to take you literally anywhere, you at least owe them a little trust to get you there. The scariest part is already out of the way. For this reason, in my experience, a questionably long drive is typically linked with either a) gas mileage issues, b) a faulty GPS, or c) weird road conditions. 

However, a good hitchhiker never ignores her sixth sense, and absolutely nothing about the 18-mile drive should’ve taken that long…or been so deep into the woods…

MIA sent a dropped pin. 

The theater was 17.4 miles away. 

I shook my head, disoriented. There was no way we’d only traveled 0.6 miles. Had I typed in the wrong location when we left?

How did you get there , I texted. There had to be a rational explanation for this, though the braided knots in my stomach indicated otherwise. 

I think just a straight ride from that Walmart you were at once you get on the highway.

“Does the Hartlynn Theater have a second location?” I asked, careful not to let my voice quaver. 

“What? Oh. No, I don’t think so.”

The knotting grew tighter. The butterflies flew higher.

“Oh. I just thought it would be a little closer to the rest of Hartlynn, that’s all.”

You okay? Mia’s text read. 

I think so. Just a sketchy driver. He seems harmless, but I should’ve been there by now.

Maybe he got lost. I don’t think he’s from here, I added

“Oh, you’re right! I guess I just assumed it was further East…” He changed lanes and got off the highway, making a brash left turn down a county road. “Gosh, I grew up going to that theater for parties! I don’t know why I started that way.”

As if he hadn’t already mentioned he’d only visited Hartlynn a couple times. I clenched my jaw and raised my guard. “Me too, it’s super fun! I’m excited.” 

Okay help he’s lying to me.

How do I intimidate him?!

Boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend. Men step back when they think there’s a man behind you. 

Ugh, figures. “My boyfriend said he’d come hang out with us and everything. I’m a little nervous because he hasn’t met my friends yet, but between all of us it should be a good time. We’re all really into clubbing, my friends and boyfriend and I.” I kept talking mindlessly, hoping he didn’t pick up my emphasis on the word “boyfriend” every time I talked about the fictional character. 

Shit. Another abrupt turn. Maybe he was pulling a U-turn? “Well, I’m sure they’ll all get along just great then,” he said between gritted teeth. 

I looked at my GPS. I looked at his car’s navigation system. We were going in the wrong, wrong, direction. 

Help we’re going in the opposite direction

How do I get out

Have you left ur house yet

Mia’s typing bubbles appeared instantly. 

“I—I told them we’d meet at 11:30, but my boyfriend likes to get places a little early and I don’t want him to be alone. Do you think we’ll make it in time? We’ll make it, right?” By now, the adrenaline in my voice was crystal clear, at least to me.

“Yes, we’ll be fine.” Between his vexed tone and my shaky tangents, I could feel the tension rising like bubbles in a Coke bottle. 

MIA has requested your location. 

I clicked send so many times my phone screen practically imploded. 

Gotcha. Want me to call the cops to where you’re at?

Yes, was my first thought, but I hesitated before typing, Give it another minute. I was positive we were headed in the wrong direction, but I was still hopeful that it was all just a big misunderstanding. 

“So, what did you like doing at the theater?” I asked, the casual tone returning to my voice. This was all just in my head. He didn’t seem sketchy when he picked me up. Surely it would end alright, right?

“What theater?”

What. The. Heck. Did. He. Mean. WHAT theater?!

I whipped out my phone again, hot on the keyboard.

Help he didn’t even know which theater

He is so sketchy

Why did I do this to myself.

“Hartlynn Theater? The one that you’re, um, taking me to?” I laughed nervously. 

“Right! We’re almost there, I promise. Sorry, I’m just not great at navigating in the dark.” 

“Aw, you’re fine! Don’t worry about it.” And I hated myself for how forgiving my voice sounded. 

I surveyed his navigation system, then my GPS. We were moving in the direction of the theater, I saw. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t so bad. I thought back to my guidelines for suspicious hitchhiking situations. Being overly cautious never got a hitchhiker anywhere, and I had to get to this show somehow. 

What the FUCK

Get out of that car right now

Why did you do this!?!?!

Mia’s messages sent little earthquake-shock daggers through my chest. Was this really as weird as she thought it was? 

I’m just gonna give him the benefit of the doubt

It’s not nice to judge a stranger 

Christina he’s still a STRANGER!

Just meet me at the theater. I’m sure it’ll be fine and if he’s still acting weird at least we’ll both be there

What if you don’t even make it to the theater?

“Once we get there, you can just drop me off at the entrance. My boyfriend said he’d wait for me there.”

“How long will you be there for? I mean, my house isn’t too far from here. You could just stay at my place if you don’t want to find a ride home,” he suggested, finding my eyes in the rearview. I fought to keep them from widening. 

“Oh! Um, I have plans, after…yes. I have plans after the theater.” I could suddenly hear my heart pounding very, very fast as the alarming consequences of my actions set in. I kept replaying all of the possible outcomes of this situation, but none of them involved a safe, successful concert at the theater. 

He wants me to come over

What do I do!?!

Typing bubbles from Mia. 

Think, think, think. How do I get out of this?

“I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes. I can drive you home in the morning.”

“No, that’s alright.” My voice was on-edge. Bordering screaming.

“If we take this shortcut, you’ll get there quick enough to be back at my place by 1,” he insisted. 

“No!” I shouted.

The backseat child-locks clicked. He heaved the car into a turn and I was thrown against the window from the acceleration. We were flying across the backroad. My stomach churned in fear, sloshing up and down along with the violent bumps in the road.

I checked my phone again. Nothing. Mia, where are you? I looked for the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but they were possessed by the road, pupils ablaze with the red of flashing taillights. 

He accelerated once more, and I squeezed my eyes shut, dizzy from the adrenaline and chaos and sheer violence of the deafening silence between us. The car thumped over gravel and zoomed through puddles and dodged fallen branches, and all I could think about was seeing the light of day outside of this car, when all of a sudden, the car changed course. 

A high-pitched “creeeaaash” noise broke through the car like nails on a chalkboard as we began to swerve into a ditch. Certain that I had to be dying, I squeezed my eyes shut even harder, desperately jerking the door handle back and forth in an attempt to get out, shrieking and yelling and gasping for air until I finally opened my eyes and saw—

Lights. Flashing red and blue, charging at us from the road. What was it? Cops? Ambulance? Was I dead after all? Was this an out-of-body hallucination? Before being met with certain death at the hands of my hitchhiking driver? Was it—

“Hartlynn County police, sir, are you aware of how fast you were going?”

“No, officer, how fast was I going?”’

Two burly police officers stood at the driver’s side, one shining the flashlight into the car and the other pacing back and forth, examining the exterior. 

Yes, yes, yes! They must be here for me! I rattled the door handle, fumbling around with the child lock while the driver pretended to ignore me. 

“We’ve also been called out here for a suspected abduction. You, um, you know anything about that?”

“Well, I picked up a hitchhiker a few miles back, but nothing too—”

“Sir, why don’t you get out of this here vehicle and let me take a look?”

The driver reluctantly unlocked the doors and I billowed out of the backseat like a smoke signal. 

“Bingo,” an old officer with a fluffy white beard whispered to the other. “This the hitchhiker?”

“I—Yes. Yes sir, it is,” the driver confessed, “I was just taking her to a theater to—”

“You know what, son? Why don’t you save your story ‘til my buddy here’s done searching every inch of this car?” The older cop demanded, turning to me. “Now you just wait here and answer a few questions. You’re safe now, we got you. We’re handling this,” he reassured me, ushering me towards the police cars. 

“I—but—I…” My voice trailed off, unsure of where to even begin this story. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. We’ve got someone on the way to pick you up, ma’am. Everything is going to be alright.”

“I—but, I’m not from here,” was all I could manage to squeak out. Gosh, here I was with the man who quite literally saved my life and all I could do was complain about how far away I lived?

“Help is already on the way. A woman named Mia, I think her name was?”

For the first time that night, my mouth curled into a smile as I reached for my phone, thanking Mia and opening my notes app one last time. 

Christina’s Rules For Hitchhiking (REVISED Edition) 

1. Never, ever, EVER go hitchhiking again!