Rain, Rain, Go Away
The most frequently asked question I get about hitchhiking is “What do you do if it rains?”. I suppose my answer is either “Try not to get wet” or “I get wet”.
Actually, I’ve always been pretty lucky when it comes to rain. It seems like I often arrived in an area at the conclusion of several days of rain. The ground was saturated and there were puddles everywhere, but the rain was done. I also had my share of getting into a car for a ride, and just then a deluge comes down. Of course, I’m cruising down the road high and dry leaving the precipitation behind.
One notable rain event happened in Arkansas in 1994. I was hitching along a small, rural state highway. As my ride was coming to an end, I mentioned to the driver that I was torn between finding a bridge to get under, or camping outdoors. He obligingly dropped me about 500 yards from an old bridge, now abandoned since the highway had been moved. The rain had stopped and I could see some blue sky. I made the decision to camp in this inviting field under a tree.
Bad move! About two hours after dark, the sky opened up and lightning and thunder ruled the skies. I huddled down in my sleeping bag as I pulled it as close to the center of my small one-man tent as I could. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the water would begin seeping through the ceiling of the tent.
I was more worried about the lightning. It was violently crashing nearby and the booms of thunder shook the ground. With the ground now so wet, a lightning bolt striking the field would surely conduct high voltage through the entire field.
The lightning continued for what seemed an eternity, but was probably less than an hour. It was raining so hard that a little stream was now running right under - and through - my tent. My sleeping bag, tent, and everything else not packed tightly inside my backpack was saturated.
Finally, the storm abated. A little while later, there were even breaks in the clouds where I could see the stars and the sliver of a moon. I had endured.
When the first light of dawn finally arrived, I was ready to move from the now muddy field. I quickly packed up, not caring if I put wet, muddy possessions into my backpack. I could dry them later.
The clothes I wore were soaking wet and it was only about 50 degrees outside, so I hoped for a quick ride in a warm car. I got to the road, and the very first vehicle was a guy in a pickup truck and he stopped. Moments later I was in the cab huddled by the heater. I was moving west, I was warming! That’s life on the road.
- Mountain Man