Successfully Hitchhiking 1000km in a Day

I learned to hitchhike when I was backpacking Argentina from a woman akin to a rock n roll gypsy. She had jet black hair, tattoos, piercings, the kindest heart, and no income nor savings. But, somehow, she always managed to find comrades, food, drinks, party favors, and free rides.

She taught how to hitchhike safely and effectively:

• go to major/popular roads
• leave the city center – as everyone there is most likely remaining local
• write your destination on cardboard in legible letters
• smile – no one wants to ride with a miserable person

Argentina is one of the best places to hitchhike. The first time I went out alone was in Bariloche. A woman who could have been my grandmother picked me up. She had long, silver hair, colorful clothes, and a warm laugh. She dropped me off exactly where I wanted to go and rejected my pennies for payment.

I didn’t need to hitchike for another month since I was in big cities. But then there came a day when I was in Mendoza, nestled at the base of the Andes mountains, and I could not afford a $50 bus ticket north.

Shout out to my older sister who instantly sent me the money when I told her. I stubbornly sent it back due to my delusional independence.

Instead, I took a cheap cab to a gas station at the edge of the city limits, wrote on a cardboard where I wanted to go, and stood in the hot, dry heat, waiting.

Ride #1

About twenty minutes later, a minivan passed by. I took one look inside and knew they wouldn’t stop for me. Not with a handful of kids riding in the back. Not when I looked crazy and homeless.

Then, I heard a loud honk. I turned around to find they had pulled over and were waiting for me. And I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed my backpack off the dusty side of the road and ran over.

When I slid open the back door, the first thing the parents asked was “what are you doing here?” Mom and dad were worried about me.

The parents were scientists that worked at a nuclear power plant during the week. This weekend, they were headed to the kids’ grandparents’ house for Easter Sunday. That’s right, the heathen I am, I forgot it was a holiday.

For the hour long ride, I hung out with their four kids, though only the three month old baby smiled back. I tried to offer them shiny coins from my pocket. But they all looked at me like a dirty stranger, rightfully so.

Mom and dad dropped me off at a major intersection just before the next city.

Ride #2

I wasn’t so lucky at the second stop. I realized after nearly an hour of sweating while standing still that I needed to change the destination on my cardboard. It was too far and no one around was heading there.

I went into a gas station, asked for a spare pen, and wrote a new town over and over again until the letters were bold enough to be seen at 50mph.

Within minutes, the next guy picked me up. He was a handsome, young professor from a local university who loved that I was Dominican. As soon as I told him, he started playing reggaeton and raving about my culture.

I didn’t have the heart to explain that reggaeton is Puerto Rican not Dominican. Instead, we sang along to a slew of explicit lyrics like old friends catching up.

Forty minutes later, he dropped me off at the entrance to a town that looked so barren I thought tumbleweeds would soon pass me by. He assured me it was the only road in and out of town and someone was bound to head north.

Ride #3

After another grueling hour in the sun, a heavy set middle aged Doctor pulled over. He traveled for Easter weekend and was returning home to his wife eleven hours North. He was happy to take me as far as I wanted to go. I struck gold.

Doc had a deep scratch in his voice and acne scars on his face. He looked intimidating yet was surprisingly nice. He regularly hitched as a broke college student. Now, he offered rides to strangers in an effort to complete his cosmic karmic duty.

When we reached the town I originally intended to go to, I took one look around and hated it. I knew I would have to hitch again within the next couple of days. The thought of that gave me a headache.

I asked Doc if I could ride with him for another five hours to the next city. He begrudgingly agreed. I kept quiet so as to not to push my luck.

I checked my location on Maps.me regularly, making sure we stayed on the main road. A couple of times, I drifted into sleep and woke up in a panic, thinking “this is it, this is how I die,” especially after the sunset and we were driving down empty desert roads with nothing but headlights to guide us.

We arrived to my new destination just before midnight. He dropped me off at a gas station where cabs were lined up, waiting to take me to my hostel. I thanked him and he drove off immediately. Poor guy just wanted to see his wife.

That’s it!

That’s how I covered 1000km in 3 rides in 1 day.

I quit while I was ahead and haven’t hitchhiked since. I doubt I will ever get that lucky again. Also, I can afford public transportation now.

Blessings to the scientists, professor, and doctor. I hope they’re all still helping strangers on the road. Grateful none of them were like the guy who let me sleep in his home but turned out to be creepy.