A few weeks ago, I finally got around to watching Into The Wild. I’d read Jon Krakauer’s book a while ago; although it was, and is, brilliant work, I have much less respect for the author after finding out that he agreed to whitewash the abuse that Chris McCandless suffered as a child. Everything that Chris did makes much more sense after you understand what happened to him, and his sister, in their youth.
It’s been nearly twenty-five years since the adventures were recounted in the book and movie. If you have even a bit of wanderlust in your heart, it’s likely hearing about Chris’s trip will make you at least consider a trip to “The Slabs,” Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, or the “Magic Bus” on the Stampede Trail.
But there’s one big difference between a would-be Supertramp’s life in 1992 and 2016: hitching.
Hitching ain’t what it used to be. Years ago, one of my uncles hitched to Woodstock, as did many others — and he almost made it there in time. You’d be harder-pressed now to hitch on a schedule. Some people say that hitching isn’t safe for anyone now, and certainly not for [women/PoC/gay people/trans people/endangered owls/your name here].
So I ask you, B&B? Ever hitched a ride? Ever given a ride to a hitchhiker? Would you do either today? Why or why not?