I confess. Even though my blog title is Thumbing Through, I am not a
hitchhiker. It scares me. I’m a woman, not a particularly tough woman,
and if I’m going to rough it when I travel, I’d just as soon be
schlepping a backpack over a wooded mountain pass than from one
stickity-stink truckstop bathroom to another.
So, most of the time, Thumbing Through refers to my metaphorical
hitchhiking through the lands opened to me via human thumb – sometimes
my own, sometimes someone else’s.
The exception is when I went to the 2007/08 New Year’s Hitchhiker
Happening at Slab City, Calif., in the desert near the Salton Sea.
Even then I didn’t thumb my way to The Slabs, as the area is also
known. Nope. I invited my husband and two dogs along, and we hauled a
friend’s travel trailer, which was a third the size of our house. I
was hardly out of my comfort zone. But for three nights and three
days, a pack of hitchhikers welcomed me into their campfire circle and
gave me a glimpse of Hitchhike Land, a realm I could not otherwise
have known. . .