David and I hitchhiked to Iowa City. Neither of us had hitchhiked before, so we
thought it would be fun to try. It
was. We went on Highway 6 and it took us
3 ½ hours for the 65 miles. We had 6
rides, none of them very long. They
were: 1) a chiropractic assistant, she
was very nice (as all of them were) and we talked about broken bones, 2) a high
school boy in his hopped up car, so loud we didn’t talk, 3) a middle-age farmer
who told us about the recent—last summer—tornado, 4) a man who was drunk with
his wife and little dog in a pickup truck (what a squeeze) on their way to the
dump. He drove slowly, thank goodness,
but all over the road and the whole situation was sad, but still very comical,
5) a man with a strong German accent, hardly understandable, 6) a freak** who
was real friendly; he was headed for an auction. He drove a 1954 Chevrolet truck in good
condition. We walked a lot, too. But what a cross section of middle America! ***
*From a letter I wrote to my mother spring semester of my
sophomore year at Grinnell College.
**In 70s slang, a “freak” meant a hippie.
***My 62-year-old self is laughing at my letter and horrified at the
thought of hitchhiking. What a different
world it was in the 1970s!
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