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Hitchin' a ride posted Thursday, June 24, 2004
Decided it was my time to vacate Brisbane. Kate gave me a lift to the edge of town and I finally put my best thumb forward. In no hurry I was aiming to get back on track exploring the coast the cheapest way possible. 10 minutes of waiting on the side of the start of a motorway, a large truck quickly geared down and cleared his front seat. Tattoo covered, long haired, very happy fellow, in a loud voice said “Hop in” With that, I did. On his way home to Noosa after delivering house trusses, kept me entertained with his stories about clobbering four punks with a hockey stick (where he got one of them in Australia, I’d like to know) after one of them refused to leave his daughter alone. Very friendly guy. Still very early in the day, after being dropped at an off ramp of the motorway I knew I needed to find an on ramp, so the traffic would be slower. Without full effort, I trudged along the gravel towards the other side of the overpass, back facing traffic with my thumb out. 10 minutes later a well dressed man stopped in front. Wasn’t the most interesting bloke to chat with and trying to decipher his accent made things tough so I simply agreed to most things. The 3rd ride that I was offered was fun. For some reason 2 young women pulled a u-turn, maybe there was no highway onramp heading north at the spot they jumped on. A very well kept mid 1970’s sedan was the chariot that helped the girls give me the tour of their town of Gympie. Too early again in the day to call this place home for the night, we visited the town’s giant pineapple and agree they should snap a photo with me in front.
Trying to leave Gympie seemed to take the longest at 30 minutes of waiting. Crowds rushed home from work while the music from my earphones kept me smiling. Finally a van pulled over with ‘Beavertails’ printed on the side. An Aussie flag accompanied a Canadian flag above it. Being a Canadian pastry I hope more then a few readers have heard of it. Although I’ve only had the pleasure of enjoying one. Depending of the 12 styles to choose from, everyone that tries them becomes hooked. After a bit of driving and mundane chit chat, he mentioned he had a nice place in the country that I could lay my weary head for a nites rest. Quickly found out he’s had about a dozen hitch hiking travellers for dinner. Very tasty he said. I didn’t mind, he filled me up with plenty of grog (booze) and homemade soup. Guess I was the lucky one.
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