Continuing the theme "I'm so not a hippy, but deep-down I want to be one" I thought I would drag out the story of the time Babes and I thought it would be fun to hitchhike. Actually, that's unfair. I wanted to hitchhike, Babes told me I was crazy, I called him a chicken... you see where this is going.
It was the summer of '95 and we were InterRailing through Europe. (For the non-Europeans: InterRailing is a right of passage for many European teenagers - you buy a train ticket and in return you get all of Europe for a glorious month.) We were touring Greece and on our way to Epidaurus. I thought it would be clever to save some money by cutting out the bus fee. (No trains to Epidaurus.)
The first car that stopped was driven by a kind man who was willing to take us half-way there from the nearest train station. When the time came to get out, the doors wouldn't open. Mild panic set in, but of course the guy just had children and the car's child lock was on.
The next person to stop had a pickup truck. We could sit in the back. After the previous experience, I was a little twitchy about getting inside a car, so I was ecstatic to be in the open air, wind in our hair, whizzing to our beautiful destination. Until he stopped. In the middle of nowhere. Not a building in sight. When we jumped out of the truck, he came at us creepily, waving a condom, frantically asking something in Greek. We ran rather fast. And that was the last time we ever hitchhiked.