Vegas Please (part 3)

Vegas Please (part 3):  2nd Ride

 The Navy veteran orientates us by driving out of his way to the northwest part of Phoenix to the highway that will take us to Las Vegas.

“There you go.  That highway should get you there.”  

He waves and honks as he drives off.  

Adrian and I start walking into the desert with our thumbs out.  It is still early in the day.  The highway is small and the traffic fast.  We stick close to the shoulder as we walk down the highway.

Part of the problem in this highway situation is that traffic is moving too fast to pull over.  We continue walking.

Thankfully we are in the early spring, so the desert is more cool than hot.

In the early afternoon, we see that there is a railroad track running parallel to the highway.  Adrian has always wanted to jump a train, so we discuss the possibility of hopping a train.  Maybe it will take us to Vegas?

We continue to walk and the afternoon winds down.  In the distance, we hear a train headed our way.  

“Let’s try to go for it.”

The rail road tracks are about 100-yards off of the highway.  We sprint to the tracks.

When we run up to to the tracks both of us quickly realize that if we try to grab ahold of this train there is a good chance someone gets left behind, dismembered, and/or killed.  

We stand in the sand and watch the train pass. 

“I need to smoke some weed,” I tell Adrian as we sit defeated and watching the highway.  

I set my pack down and pull out the last of my herb from the road trip down to Phoenix.  Not only don’t we have a ride to Vegas, but I am down to my last ganja. 

However, I need a shift in consciousness in the situation.  Sometimes it helps.

I smoke a small joint by myself.  We head back to the late afternoon traffic in the desert.

We walk for about 2-minutes down the highway.  

Like magic, a dual cab pickup truck pulls over for us on the busy highway.  

Adrian runs up to the truck like we are the luckiest and most thankful hitchhikers on the planet.  I walk up to the truck with caution and weed-paranoia.  We might want to pick our rides.  I don’t want to be buried in the desert.

Sign used to hitchhike from Phoenix to Vegas

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