Written Sep 1, 2022
In 2008 my good friend Alan Vaughan called from Gary, Indiana. He was driving to Florida. I told him I was leaving Palm Beach for New England. We hadn’t seen each other in a good 6 or 7 years.
“How you getting north?”
“I’m hitchhiking on I-95. I figure it will take 3-4 days.” I had a airline ticket from West Palm Beach to Boston, but preferred to mythize a northbound voyage. “I’m broke so that’s the only way I can get there.”
“You’re kidding?” He was incredulous. “I haven’t seen a hitchhiker the entire trip from the Upper Peninsula.”
“Not one?"
“Not one.”
“Well, I’ll be a blast from the past.”
I hung up and then called Alan the next day from the airport saying I was in Jacksonville.
The next day I told him I was in Dillon South Carolina. On Labor Day I said Roanoke Virginia.
"I’m making real good time."
By the way I was already drinking coffee on Watchic Pond in Standish, Maine.
The trip from West Palm Beach to Boston wasn't fun, but it was fast.
And there's nothing like Maine at the end of summer.
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