where the writers are

hitchhiking | hitchhiking

luke-whyte's picture
If you travel east on Rt. 299 from the Northern California coast, the wet winds will be suffocated by the mountains' meticulous calm. Somewhere out there (I’d say about a tank of gas east of the beach), a dirt road breaks off to the left and ascends through 20 miles of hairpin turns. Where it ends...
marta-szabo's picture
It was hot and it was Lincoln, Nebraska. I’d been hitchhiking from British Columbia – sixteen years old – partially because I had lost the Greyhound bus pass my parents had purchased, but mostly because I wanted to hitchhike the way any self-respecting hippy did. I wanted to find the Merry...