Yesterday, an old man was sitting on the entry ramp to Highway-101 for 50 minutes in the midday sun. His backpack has a blanket, a pack of cigarettes and an empty wallet but nothing else. The heat was not horrible but the exhaust, noise, and dirt from the passing cars was definitely not the company that he had hoped to keep that afternoon. In the 70s he had hitchiked all around the States without problems, but today nobody really pays much consideration to the idea of pulling their car over. Too many movies, too many bad stories, too much rush and too much fear.

Fifty minutes on the side of the road can feel like an eternity. Cars always pass by with blank stares. Children look strait in his eyes because they don’t understand why this man does not own a car. The parents and grandmothers will look away as soon as they meet his gaze; ashamed of themselves or perhaps just trying to avoid the reality of the situation. They were only curious to see what this man looked like, but they have no intention of knowing who he is. Each time a car slows down to only stare at him and then speed away, his hope falls as if he’d been slapped him in the face. Occasionally a motorcycle will pass and wave but this is not comforting for very long.

He worked for the newspapers but was laid off when business started getting worse and worse. Some people find it hard not to complain about their situations, but he had seen the ups and downs of life and nothing took him by surprise anymore. Life has been down for a while. The memories of girls and partys, of friends and his youth are still with him but today he is hungry and alone and sitting on the side of the road.

He is 60 years old and was on his way to Morro Bay because he has an aunt there who can host him for a few days, but she is on a fixed income and he does not want to be a burden. In the morning he had spent the last bit of his unemployement money on gas to get his truck to Morro Bay. Just a few miles later his truck’s transmission broke with the full tank of gas inside. He considered syphoning the gas back out and selling it, but then laughed about the impression that he would give a police officer passing by. The car was not worth the price of a new transmisson so he left it on the side of the road and began hitching south.

I picked him up and told him that I could take him as far as Salinas. I could tell that he was an honest man and still trying to work everyday for a living. When I pulled over to get gas and money at the ATM, he stepped out of the car to avoid making me feel uncomfortable about leaving my possessions unguarded. This was not nessessary and I found it to be an incredible gesture.

In Salinas I bought him some lunch and a coffee and then dropped him at the highway ramp on the south side of town.

We don’t live in a world of technology and information and machines, our world consists of people. Traveling is not about seeing towns and buildings but meeting the people who live there. I travel to meet people and this has been more rewarding than any sight I have ever seen.