March 25, 2002
With the pickup truck in the shop, Adrian and I accept our fate to thumb it from Phoenix to Las Vegas. We pack and create a trail mix for our newbie hitchhiking adventure.
A sign is painted with “Vegas Please,” so potential rides know where we want to go.
The sign also markets our manners.
This will be the longest hitchhiking trip that I have attempted. I’ve caught a ride around town in Wisconsin from strangers growing up. I hitch a ride into town from the Anchorage airport.
However, I have not went on a multi-state adventure before. I am interested to see what this drift to Las Vegas brings.
We get an early start the next day.
You don’t want to get stuck out in the desert at night. We have no idea how long it will take us to get to Las Vegas. Will we make it in time for Adrian to make his flight at least?
After a hardy breakfast buffet, Adrian and I get dropped off at an interstate on-ramp near a truck stop in southeast Phoenix. We figure this hitching location might bring us some “long-haul luck” to Vegas.
Some people honk and wave (presumably because of our sign). After an hour, a pickup truck pulls on to the shoulder of the on-ramp.
“I’m not going to Vegas, but I can get you to the right part of town. You need to get to the northwest part of Phoenix.”
Our driver is a Navy Veteran. He chuckles on how far off course we have started.
We jump in the back of his pickup truck. We speed off to the highway that will take us to Vegas.
