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Strange highway sightings???


fear_and_greed

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SO I'm driving Hwy 99 from Squamish to Vancouver the other day and I see this guy pushing one of those big construction wheelbarrows full of gear, packs, skis, snowshoes. Those of you who drive this road will remember that in some places there is virtually no shoulder. With the new highway being constructed HUGE dump trucks are coming and going not to mention a constant stream of solid traffic. This fool seemed blessfully unaware of the danger he faced.

A couple hours later on the way back I see this guy a few kilometers up the road now with a ski pole with a US flag stuck out from his rig into the taffic lane presumably to ward off any heavy, speeding metal objects that veer to close. His right elbow was also bleeding so some one must have blew him into the ditch.

I know ski season is coming up fast but shit man go sell your blood for a bus ticket instead!

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I was hitching thru Nevada a couple decades ago and was in a small town somewhere near Bumf.ck.

I was walking through town and hitching and found a car parked on the road FULL of gear of all kinds.

It was dusty and had obviously not moved for a long time.

I thought about reaching in and borrowing a dusty thing or two but immediately knew that I was "supposed" to do that.

I walked on.

Soon a woman picked me up and drove me about 10 miles south into the desert and dropped me off in the desert saying, "I know this is a bad spot but it's better than where you were headed." And she peeled out, spun around , and went back to town. I knew she had saved me a short life of hard labor.

So there I was with 1 gallon of warm water, 100+ at 10AM, two lanes dissappearing into sagebrush, twiddling my thumbs.

 

After a few people passed by giving me strange looks, a van stopped and offered me a ride. It was an old guy with a packed van. He said he was driving down the road about 50 miles then cutting off into the desert. He was planning to go cross country for a few days and I was welcome to come with.

As tempting as that seemed, I said no.

He stopped where he said, made sure I had water, and turned into the desert. Away he went over the horizon.

There I was agin. Further from the death camp but still in the desert with 1 gallon of hot water. It was now 110.

After about an hour, one car pulled up and stopped.

It was an old hippie tripping out of his mind. He asked me for a match which I gave him. He offered me a hit which I took.

He thanked me for the match and drove away.

Well, now at least I was high.

The next vehicle was a pickup and it stopped. He said I could ride in back with his dogs.

One of them growled at me for the next hour while the other one repeatedly tried to hump my leg.

I made it to Vegas and then Red Rocks that night and slept under the Black Velvet wall.

I miss hitching cross country.

 

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Driving in a steady drizzle in Glacier National Park several years ago, I came around a corner to see a sleeping bag lying in a dirt pull-out with somebody's feet sticking out of the top. I slowed to be sure of what I was looking at. The bag never moved and I got this really creepy feeling up and down my spine.

I kept on going.

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Near Uluru, Australia: A carload of aborigines driving on the gravel shoulder on what I thought at first were four flat tires. I learned later that when a tire blows out, they cut off the tread, leaving only the sidewall to support the weight of the car. It's illegal to drive on the road that way, so they just drive the shoulder.

 

Similarly, aboriginies in those parts often bust all their car windows out to improve ventilation as well.

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Bug, thanks for the entertaining story. I've got some hitch-hiking stories....a little off-topic but what the heck.

 

In high school my folks dropped off my buddy Joel and me for our first mountaineering experience, a winter attempt on Eagle Peak in MRNP. Crawled into the sleeping bag with tremendous optimism, only to wake up with warm rain puddling in the tent, pitched at the base of a big avalanche slope. We had read this could be dangerous and decided to ditch. Down at Longmire, Joel ran into his high school shop teacher who had been tubing at Paradise. It seemed like the fastest way home, so we rode in back of the truck on top of the tubes. I remember a bouncy ride, with empty beer bottles being handed through the cab. I also remember seeing caution signs for sharp corners while the shop teacher accelerated into the next gear.

 

Also in high school, my ride didn't show up after drama club one snowy evening. I thumbed a ride from a kid and his dad. There's a long, steep hill on the way up to my parent's house. The kid's dad thought he'd better get a run for it. He accelerated into the dip below the hill, where the icy road was particularly crowned. The truck spun completely around, off the road and over a 45-degree, 15-foot bank, pointing nose down. All the weight of the truck was held by a vine maple, and since we had no seat belts, we were all pressed up against the windshield. We scrambled out through the sliding rear window.

 

In college I climbed in Leavenworth with a kid who borrowed his dad's Suburban. The tranny went out and his dad figured he could tow it over highway 2. After Steven's Pass, things got a little crazy as (with no seat belts, again), when we reached speeds of 45 mph, the harmonic swaying between the two vehicles got to be so bad that we went out of control, swerving back and forth completely across the highway. The kid's dad was fighting the steering wheel and yelling, "Come on you bitch!" As soon as he regained control, he would bring the speed back up to 45 mph and the show would continue. Repeatedly. By the time we got to Monroe, I thought, "F*&%k, we're gonna die on 405." But the vehicles jack-knifed at the intersection where you get on 522, ripping the bumper half off the Suburban. He banged it back into place with a 10-lb hammer, and was ready to go, when I jumped out and walked back to Monroe. I called my dad and he said, "Son, you made a good choice."

 

Here's another good one. My Yosemite trip fell apart when my partner bailed. Down at the U.W. rock I met a guy who said he was just getting back into climbing (claimed he was a stud in the 1970's). I thought I'd better go to Leavenworth and climb some steep shit with him just to ascertain that he remembered how to tie knots. After a day on Castle Rock, it was obvious that despite his enthusiasm, he wasn't in Yosemite shape. Which was too bad because he was really fun to pal around with. Won't tell you his name...probably everybody who's climbed at the U.W. rock has met the guy.

 

After climbing at Castle, we stopped at Safeway to get a 6-pack. He started hitting on some 14-year-old girls. "I've got to settle a question for myself. You two aren't sisters are ya? I mean you're both really cute, and I could see where you might be sisters, but I just have to know." He was probably 34 at the time.

 

He wanted to show me a route he'd done in the Pinnacles. The 6-pack was gone when we arrived. We farted around for a bit, then picked up 12 more and started driving up to Steven's Pass. I suggested that we should get rid of the empties. "Good idea!" He threw them out the window. Going up a hill where two lanes are available for uphill traffic, I pulled into the passing lane. He started freaking out. "Dude, YOU'RE OVER THE CENTER LINE! YOU'RE OVER THE F&%@ING CENTER LINE!"

 

 

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Down at the U.W. rock I met a guy who said he was just getting back into climbing (claimed he was a stud in the 1970's). I thought I'd better go to Leavenworth and climb some steep shit with him just to ascertain that he remembered how to tie knots. After a day on Castle Rock, it was obvious that despite his enthusiasm, he wasn't in Yosemite shape. Which was too bad because he was really fun to pal around with. Won't tell you his name...probably everybody who's climbed at the U.W. rock has met the guy.

 

After climbing at Castle, we stopped at Safeway to get a 6-pack. He started hitting on some 14-year-old girls. "I've got to settle a question for myself. You two aren't sisters are ya? I mean you're both really cute, and I could see where you might be sisters, but I just have to know." He was probably 34 at the time.

 

He wanted to show me a route he'd done in the Pinnacles. The 6-pack was gone when we arrived. We farted around for a bit, then picked up 12 more and started driving up to Steven's Pass. I suggested that we should get rid of the empties. "Good idea!" He threw them out the window. Going up a hill where two lanes are available for uphill traffic, I pulled into the passing lane. He started freaking out. "Dude, YOU'RE OVER THE CENTER LINE! YOU'RE OVER THE F&%@ING CENTER LINE!"

 

 

 

COACH!

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Coming up from the valley in 88 I took a ride with a guy and his brother-in-law who were driving to Medford to get the sister/wife and take her home. She was apparently not aware they were coming.

The car had 2nd, 4th, and reverse and was well stocked with beer. If we stalled out on a hill, he would put it in reverse, oh no tail lights and it was dark, and jet down to try again. Finally the beer took effect and we took out several objects on the side of the road before coming to rest in a creek. It was about 3AM and the driver was mad at me for not waking him up. I grabbed my stuff and went up to the road and split hoping that they never made it to the sister's house.

 

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I was driving to 11worth once years ago and one guy in the car had some :toad: in his wallet so everyone split it up and dosed in the border line-up in case we got searched.

 

About 2 hours later while driving thru the tunnels en route to Stevens Pass the driver rolls down his window and sticks his head out "A SHOOTING STAR!! I SAW A SHOOTING STAR!!! DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT????"

 

"Um no John, we didn't. Cause we're in a fucking tunnel with concrete overhead."

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