I’ll Hitch a Ride

If there’s one thing I’ve never said it’s, “I’ll hitch a ride home.” I’ve heard that teenagers confidently say that all the time after they’re dropped off somewhere, but it’s not been my experience.

I once hitchhiked in my early twenties when my car broke down in Oklahoma. That was pre-cellphone days, so I panicked for a couple moments before a car stopped to help me, but it ended up fine.

Just last week I planned to go to the library’s Joplin Reads Together culminating event where the author of Remarkably Bright Creatures was speaking. I knew the community room would be packed, and that meant the parking lot would be jammed.

At the top of my list of things to avoid is a full parking lot.

I cooked up this scheme where my son Landon, who had come to town for supper, could drop me off at the library, and I could hitch a ride home with someone there. I may have conned both my book clubs into reading the book, and I knew several members would be there as well as some writer friends.

Of course, I’m too logical to go somewhere and not have a plan for how to get home, so I texted a friend and asked if she could give me a lift. No problem. It was settled.

That evening, I was conveniently dropped off near the door, and I strolled into the library to see quite a few people I knew. Of course, I’ve gone to events where I knew a lot of people, but I never really considered who there I could ask for a ride. At the library, as I talked to the folks around me, I thought of a requirement for asking that favor. If someone has been in my house for food or drink, that person qualifies for my special mental list. That means the person knows where I live and knows the distance required for a drop-off.

But would that be presumptuous? Would it put friends on the spot? There have been a few times in my life when a friend has asked for a ride, and I was glad to help. But are things different now?

As my phobia of parking lots has mushroomed the last few years, I’ve actually stayed away from events I didn’t have to go to just to avoid the congestion. Don’t get the idea that I can’t drive. I can keep the car between the two lines. I’ve driven to Louisiana and Florida and Colorado by myself. But a full parking lot, with people darting around and cars backing out, gives me the willies.

Now I have a plan… If I find myself at a function where I need a ride home, I’ll just check my special mental list and look around for a dupe, er, I mean, a friend. So, watch out! I could be asking, “May I hitch a ride home?”

Mike is playing ball at Ryan’s house when he gets a phone call from his mom, who’s at friends’ house, telling him to head home because of an impending thunderstorm. Normally he would have asked to wait the storm out at Ryan’s, but he still has homework and it’s already after five on Sunday afternoon. He rides his bike to his house and goes inside when the tornado sirens start screaming. He checks the local weather on TV and sees a giant funnel cloud on the TV tower cam before the electricity goes off. He and his sister run for the basement. Then everything changes. Although this novel is by definition fiction, the events of the F-5 tornado that devastated Joplin, Missouri, are very real.

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