The wife and daughter flew home for the holiday. He planned to finish up some work, and find a cheaper way back to Chicago. Times were thin.
Thumbing a ride out of Nederland was easy. With the snow flying, and the big winter holiday tomorrow, he was able to find long rides, with fine people, out to the edge of that great state of Colorado. With the backdrop of the Rockies in the rear view, he feels the wind blow through the latched doors of the old car, and out ahead, are the barren, wide open ranch lands and farm fields that make up the heartland.
Things are good until they are not. The enjoyable discussions with various drivers while traveling on seasonally snow swept roads soon gave way to freezing rain, causing more than one to pull off for the night and wait it out. He had made commitments in Chicago and would have nothing to do with stopping.
He was standing on a ramp leading out of Iowa City in a steady rain. Although he was dressed well, he got the feeling from the faces of those that passed by, that he looked far worse than he felt. It was about 3 a.m. when the pickup stopped and shouted something to the effect that he had no room in the cab but couldn't’ “in God’s name” leave him out there without at least stopping and saying “may the Lord be with you my son.” He shouted back to four folks squeezed in the cab if they, or the Lord, would mind him riding in the truck bed stacked high with burlap bags of seed.
It is all about perspective, really. That 3-4 hour ride, buried deep under the heavy bags, protected from the chill, was one of his best rides of the trip. He climbed out right on Rt. 173 outside of Rockford, IL, with the sky clearing, and a straight shot east to Antioch. One driver gentlemen even stopped in the little town of Hebron, IL and bought him a bloody at the town tap. It was Christmas morning.
Walking through the front door to a house full of family, they quickly wondered and asked who had picked him up at the airport. He just smiled and said he managed to “get a ride.”