THE LOST VIRTUES: You shouldn't pick up hitch-hikers anymore. Part II

Today, you wouldn’t dare pick up hitch hikers. Yet, a few years ago, it was a common occurrence. Today, seeing a hitch hiker causes instant suspicion. Hitch hikers today are viewed with such contempt as to instantly brand one as a deranged individual capable of unspeakable crimes. No reasonable person today would take the risk of taking into their vehicle a total stranger. Furthermore, anyone today who would suffer injury or loss as the result of picking up a hitch-hiker… well, we would think, “What were you thinking? If you were stupid enough to pick up a hitch-hiker, you get what you deserve.” However, not too many years ago, doing so was understood to be an act of gracious kindness. To pick up a hiker didn’t make you stupid, it made you a better person.

I would never stop to pick up a hitch hiker today, and not just because of the obvious safety concerns; I am too time pressed. My normal schedule is such that I simply do not have the extra few minutes required for stopping and picking up a hiker and then stopping a second time to drop him off. Plus, I don’t really want to make the effort to get to know someone that I will never see again. I want to play the CD’s of my choice… and I want to play them at volumes that would prevent conversation. If I want to stop at a Starbucks drive-thru, which I frequently do, I do not want to have to deal with the, “Do you want a coffee? - Oh, you can’t afford it.” - Then I’m stuck drinking one in front of my temporary passenger or I’m stuck buying. - I am not really interested in the requisite chat-with-a-total-stranger that is required. A hitch-hiker would, simply put, be an enormous inconvenience.

Something else that is worthy of note is that most of my travel today is done on the big super slab Interstate highways upon which hitch hiking is forbidden by law. My high speed got-to-get-there-now express lane life has by default removed itself from the highways that would permit such a “chance” mode of travel as waiting by the edge of the road for a passing motorist to stop and give you a free ride to a spot a bit further down the way. No one today gets their kicks on Route 66. I recently was detoured off of Interstate 44 onto old Route 66, and believe me; you wouldn’t want to travel very far on this historic road. This relic piece of Americana, like the virtues to which I refer, provides only a broken down and faded symbol of a once famed and successful stretch of concrete that spanned much of our nation.