hitchin' a ride

First, it was a girl about my age with her younger sister walking back home from the library.

Then, a boy on his way to the football homecoming game.

Can't forget about that drunk Muckleshoot. I did politely decline a swig of his beverage he held in a brown paper bag. I was driving after all.

Then, my absolute favorite, John the Beloved. That's not his real name...the beloved part. Aaron and I picked him up somewhere in the middle of nowhere Idaho and Montana. He was in his sixties, hitchhiking it across the U.S. via I-90. He said he'd been traveling that way since he was in his twenties. He was a regular Billy Joel, playing pianos in bars making a living.

We had only been married 2 months and we were on our way down to Utah for a friend's wedding. He looked at our wedding album and saw that we were Mormon. The big temple in the background was a dead giveaway. He then tells us his only Mormon joke. You know. The one about the Pope meeting with his top Bishops in Rome. ((stop me if you've heard this one before)) He tells them he has good news and bad news. The good news is that Jesus has returned. The Bishops get all excited and ask what bad news there could possibly be. The Pope answers, "he called me from Salt Lake City." ba dum bum!

Oh, he was a funny one. John rode with us for about 3 hours. In that time, he talked to us about everything under the sun. From light and fluffy stuff like how good of gas mileage we got, to the economy and life and death. He even mentioned how he thought there was going to be a war soon and that it would start on our soil.

We parted ways in Butte, Montana. We gave him $5 bucks and some coupons for McDonald's. While we filled up at the gas station, he walked over to the on ramp and stuck out his thumb.

I forgot to mention that I had pink-eye at the time. So every time I turned around to talk to him, he probably thought I was some crazy chick on drugs with my eyes all red and bloodshot. Good times.

Then three days later, we woke up to Aaron's brother Mike asking us if we would mind him turning on the tv. It was September 11th. Aaron and I just looked at each other and we both were like, "Whoa...John was right." That's when he became lovingly known as, John the Beloved.

This past Monday, I picked up a girl who had run out of gas about a half mile from the exit. She was on her way to Seattle and had been trying for almost an hour to get some help. We had a good laugh when I told her my husband and I ran out of gas on our way to the hospital to have our 4th baby.

It's wrong. I know. But I see a need and try to fill that need.

Like the really nice college student who picked my dad up when he suddenly found himself stranded in Ritzville on his way to Spokane. He had gone across the street to a different fast food joint from all the other riders on the bus to try and save time. The bus left without him. Taking with it my dad's belongings. Including the money he was going to purchase a car for my grandma with. It's funny now. Not so much then.

So sometimes it's ok to offer a ride to others.

Just check for axes first.