Traveling should never end

Getting left at a little used exit by joy riding high schoolers was a rotten idea.  I depended on someone pitying me while I sat under clouds that promised rain. North of Anchorage 115 miles, I was drifting to the small, middle of nowhere town Talkeetna. New to hitchhiking, Alaska had seemed the perfect place to hop into strange cars. Besides, there was a lack of public transportation.

Perched on my bag, I was waiting on the abysmal roadside contemplating my luck when the truck stopped, dusting me with tiny pieces of asphalt. Out stepped a wrinkly, red shirted, cowboy rambling about my hitching. If I was his daughter he'd be uneasy, fearful a psycho would pick her up.  I understood his reasoning but, more importantly, he was driving north. A friend had offered tips, "Listen to your instincts. Wear earphones. You can always turn down a ride."  After hurling my bag in back, I clamored inside.  Discussing my trip, Red asked where I'd sleep once we made it to town. Despite the pending rain, I anticipated camping. "I'm going to my cabin tonight; you're welcome to stay," Red remarked.  I tossed around this idea, debating pennies saved versus personal safety as we drove on.

We turned down the stone road when Red belatedly mentioned his buddies were meeting us. If I ever had the notion I was to be killed, this was it. My conscious assured me I would be fine while my emotions quietly hyperventilated. I contemplated my options if things went awry.  Would I run for help?  To where? 2, 5, 8 miles away?  No.  I'd be more likely to twist an ankle with ensuing horror film ending. And bears? My meager body devoured, bones grinding between powerful jaws.

Too late to turn back, we came to a halt in front of the cabin complete with three mountain men.  Tossing me a beer, they dragged my bag to the loft where I would sleep. Alone.  They’d be downstairs for my comfort. My tense muscles relaxed. They're good guys!  We wove tall tales late into the night until I made my way up to the loft and snuggled into my old, familiar sleeping bag. No running, shrieking into the darkness and all limbs intact. In the morning Red bought breakfast at a café before mentioning his concern for my safety, then dropped me under overcast skies and took off.  I pondered the goodness of the human spirit and my good fortune while waiting on crumbling asphalt for another muddy vehicle.