Sunday 3 January 2016

Notes from a semi bohemian suburban childhood #1

I didn't like it.  Perhaps as a younger child it felt slightly threatening, having to share my space with a stranger and, more to the point, having to share my mum with one too.  Car doors would open and after a brief exchange a heavy-looking haversack (and sometimes dirty boots, plastic bags, cardboard signs with 'Wigan' or 'M1' written on them in marker pen) would be loaded onto the back seat beside me.  Then we made the next leg of whatever journey we were undertaking in Mum's green and white Triumph Herald with a new passenger on board.   For however many minutes and miles required, the attention would be focused on them - more often than not a young man, occasionally a young woman too - whose back of the head was all I could see, until we dropped them off at a junction or a lay-by some way closer to their final destination.  Mum could rarely drive past a hitchhiker without stopping to at least check if she could be of any help.

So, as a child, I didn't like having to give lifts to strangers, but my mum was a warm, gregarious woman who enjoyed engaging with people of diverse backgrounds - especially young people - and as I reflect on this with the benefit of these extra years, I now envy her.  I wish I had her ability to chat with ease to anyone, the same openness of her heart and the generosity of her gestures.

One day, by which time I was a young teenager and my mum now separated from my dad, she came home from a long journey and spoke enthusiastically of a hitchhiker whose company she'd enjoyed for several miles.  It seemed as if a special kind of friendship had been formed even in that short time and in spite of them being disparate characters - she a middle-aged mother and he a young, long-haired hippie type by all accounts, but with the added exotic credentials of being French and also (or so he told her) having some Native American ancestry.  From what I remember her telling my sister and me, it didn't matter that they were ostensibly so different as they talked about philosophy and art, about spiritual and cultural beliefs - deep and stimulating conversation from the sound of it, and as far away from the usual bland small talk as you can get.  Mum was most enamoured of him, her eyes flashing with excitement as she described him and shared his stories and insights with us, just as her passenger had  with her earlier.  "And I told him to come and visit us any time, if he's ever in this area," she concluded.

 "Mum!" my big sister and I exclaimed, in a manner more suited to that of a parent admonishing their child, "You mean you gave him our address?!"  We were not impressed.

"Well, yes of course," she confirmed, unperturbed by our reaction.

This was Mum all over.  Trusting.  Maybe too trusting?  But she had helped out waifs and strays before (and perhaps I'll write about those too in another post); it was just in her nature.

It was about a year or two later I guess, hard to say as the passage of time seems to move at a different speed when you're younger, nevertheless it had been many months after Mum's encounter that I came home from school and she said we had a visitor.  He had turned up out of the blue, having walked some distance through the town (and perhaps the county), carrying a piece of paper with our address on and eventually finding his way to our front door.  And he was welcomed warmly, sleeping on the camp bed in our living room for just one night before continuing on his wanders, the perfect house-guest, grateful, kind and honest, no money went missing, no privacy was breached (mutually!):  a hitchhiking French hippie with Native American ancestry.  It was a sweet, simple reminder of what it is to truly trust a stranger.  Proof, I believe, that most people are good.

And on that cheery note - Happy New Year!

Not mum's actual car


25 comments:

  1. I'm still in awe that your mum had a Triumph Herald. Happy New Year C.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah, I had one too! My first car in the '80s was a sleek white 1969 13/60 that also used to be hers (we were both Herald fans) and I loved it to bits.
      Happy New Year!

      Delete
  2. Happy New Year, C! I suppose back then it might have been less risky to pick up strays at the side of the road, but rather foolhardy now, I believe.

    In the '70s, my girlfriend and I often hitchhiked downtown to our favourite club and were picked up one time by a seemingly "generous fellow." I had the misfortune to be the one sat next to the perv; needless to say, we leaped out at the next stoplight - me with a few racy words for him.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Happy New Year to you too. Sorry to hear about your unfortunate lift, I hope he learned his lesson. I know there always will be a few of those kind of characters, sadly. Still, most people are alright and just want to get from A to B (in all aspects of life..!) with the minimum of hassle, I'm sure.

      Delete
  3. I have distant memories of Dad picking up the odd hitch-hiker in the 1960's, much to Mum's disapproval - so that all stopped eventually! In later years though, he couldn't pass an injured, distressed or unaccompanied animal without stopping and trying to render some assistance, or carting them off to the nearest vet or Blue Cross office, even if the poor thing was way beyond help. He even went so far as to start carrying blankets and variously sized boxes in the boot, in which to transport injured cats, dogs or birds, should he come across one on his travels.
    It's good to know that your story has such a positive ending and that your Mum's passenger was a decent person. I wonder whatever happened to him?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah, I love the thought of your Dad's animal welfare drive! So kind. It's reassuring to know that he may have helped many on his travels. I reckon we should all carry blankets and boxes in the car, maybe a tin of dogfood too!
      Yes, I wonder about the hitchhiker too. I don't remember his name, otherwise I'd be tempted to look it up.

      Delete
  4. Good to see you back C
    I once hitched from Inverness to Oban and got a lift from two German girls.The Billy Idol cassette from my Walkman going on the car stereo.The next day we all went to Mull together and then they dropped me off at Lochgilphead.
    They visited me in Glasgow and I went to see them in Germany before we lost touch

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks CC. That's a great tale, shame you lost touch but sometimes people really are just meant to be ships (or cars?) that pass in the night... I've had those brief friendships with strangers on my past travels too and somehow you know they're not destined to continue but that doesn't invalidate them, they are what they are: just passing through but fondly remembered. (Ooh)

      Delete
  5. Great story (nice car!) - I have to disagree with it being risky/riskier these days - certainly fewer hitchhikers about but I'll still stop - never had a bad incident yet (other than the rather taciturn man who told me he was on his way to a paratroopers reunion), still even he was OK, just grumpy. I've had some great passengers and had even better lifts myself, mostly I think you'll find that they're just people. Nice people who are probably a lot more at risk than the driver ever is.
    My fave was a German I picked up on the M25 who'd jumped ship in Ireland, spent Christmas in a nunnery and just wanted to get back to Hamburg - we left him at Southend but not before he'd left some very lovely aromatic cigarettes in the glove compartment by way of thanks.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Bel Mondo (I thought the car in the pic was real at first but it's a model! How good is that?!) I agree about it not being any riskier now, in fact I wonder if it's actually safer, but just fewer people do it because of the prevailing mood of paranoia promoted by sensationalist journalism.
      I'm sure some of your passengers and their personal tales would make great subjects for story writing...

      Delete
  6. Your mum sounds like a helpful person.I can see how it could be interesting and stimulating for her to meet new people.
    A friend of ours is the complete opposite and locked the doors when her car broke down on the motorway(for fear of rape).
    Unfortunately we do live in a time when the 24 hour news cycle spreads all these horrible stories and bound to make many of us cautious of strangers and foreigners, which is a shame as the majority of them are harmless, including the visitor to your house.
    Although I doubt I'd give my address to a hitchhiker, I'm sure friendships have started that way.
    There's a memorable short story by Roald Dahl called The Hitch-hiker, which I recommend: (http://www.netprof.pt/Ingles/PDF/TheHitchhikerb.pdf )

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Chris, you're right about the news stories, making everyone feel suspicious. I think we're in danger of losing the art of trusting our instincts... I really believe instinct can tell you a lot, if you know how to listen!
      Many thanks for the link to the story - I'll definitely go and read it. It's not one I know although I used to own some of his short story collections I think I missed the one this was in - I only remember having Switch Bitch and Kiss Kiss.

      Delete
  7. We never picked up hitchhikers, mainly cos there was never any room in the car. 2 adults and anywhere between 5 and 8 kids.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks SA and happy new year to you too. Sounds like it was a tight squeeze, a hitchhiker in the boot probably wasn't an option....

      Delete
  8. Nice story, C. I remember I was given a lift by two German women when I was hitch-hiking once and along the way they pulled up outside of a church. They both got out and entered the church leaving me waiting in the car. After a minute or so they returned holding a bunch of candles. "We need some candles for our house," one of them said. I was quite astounded. They had stolen a load of candles from the church! "You won't go to heaven," I said, simply to make some kind of comment about what they had just done. And at my comment they spent the rest of the journey just laughing at what I had said!
    Happy new year, C.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks John and to you too. I love your story - I guess you could say your drivers were 'resourceful'...?!

      Delete
    2. I suspect it was not the same German girls who gave me a lift!

      Delete
    3. Wouldn't it be funny if it was?
      Stranger things have happened, and unexpected connections found on this blog, before now!

      Delete
  9. We never had a car so I never experienced this until I got myself a car in my 20s. About a year after getting married I bought a Mini Metro. On my drives then I did pick up hitch-hikers - I just thought you did and was surprised at the gratitude not realising these folks normally spent ages stood with their signs.

    However two occurrences changed my position. One was picking up two French girls near a Kent port one dark winter night. They were woefully unprepared - I could only drive them half way to London and was so concerned about their welfare I checked them into a motel and paid the bill.... kind, generous but dumb. The other involved a couple only a few months later where the man essentially offered to pimp his girlfriend to me if I could help get them to a location in Dover where they could get some drugs. I left them at the bus station in Canterbury and vowed to never pick up another hitch-hiker!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That was very kind of you to help the French girls, I wonder if they were genuine?! Not so nice about the other couple but at least no harm done to you. I love the stories that have come through the comments here, all the characters - we could compile a book!

      Delete
  10. Lovely story. Can't add to the stories I'm afraid. So few hitchhikers around nowadays, they're all on Megabuses now I suppose.
    Mrs Darce's first car was a Herald - a brown one, called Horatio. HNY C

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Darcy - yes good point about the Megabuses!
      Ah, Horatio the Herald - they are (were...?) lovely cars and deserving of good names (mine was called Prudence!) I'm sure Mrs Darce, like me, loved the way you could practically turn them 360 degrees on the spot. Happy New Year to you too.

      Delete
  11. Sorry it's taken some time for me to get to this splendid post, C. It's a wonderful illustration of the benefits of openness and trust. I'm certain I would have been as alarmed as you and your sister and I'd probably be the same if this occurred in my house today. Your mum had a lesson for us all.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So nice to see you again SB and thanks for your kind comment. I'm sure we can trust most, whilst not all, people - if only we can heed the inner voice which is all too often drowned out by the paranoia of the press.

      Delete

Please come in, the door is open

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...