A ride here, a lift there, and who knows how the night will end.
It was another genius idea of Hertzkovich. Why do you need to travel oversees when you can travel right here in the north of our country? And how can you turn the trip from corny and boring to exciting and unconventional. Yes, the idea of becoming hitchhikers was certainly one of Hertzkovich’s best.
It was a simple idea. You take the bus north and let faith decide: a ride here, a lift there, and who knows how the night will end. I would never forget the first night – we slept at this crazy old lady’s house and she tried to hit on Hertzkovich. I would never forget the morning where we found ourselves sleeping in a chicken coop.
There was only one problem with this idea – the danger, but we were both ex-Navy Seals. We knew well enough not to enter a car with a suspicious person in it, and for safety measures we always carried tear gas.
The trip was a blast. We met new people every day, hung out at new places every time, and got completely shitfaced regularly.
After three weeks we categorized the hitchhikers into three groups. The first group was the normal people, who promised you a safe trip and a quick arrival to the destination. The second group was the potheads. The ride with them wasn’t as safe (and not because they were dangerous), but we loved them. They gave us the funniest experiences. The third group was the weirdoes. We didn’t really like them, but we still had to go with them sometimes. After all, most hitchhikers are weirdoes.
One day Hershko was sick and we decided to travel to my pal’s apartment in Tiberias to spend the night. But I couldn’t spend one night without going out, so I took a ride to a party in a Kibbutz 20 minutes from Tiberias. I hung out, celebrated, drank a little, and at 4 am I raised my index finger again looking for a lift back. After half an hour finally a car stopped, and I found out it was the fourth secret group of hitchhikers – hot chicks!
“Are you going to Tiberias?”
“Yes”, she replied in a sexy voice. “Come on in”.
“Why are you looking for a lift at this hour? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”
“Don’t worry”, I replied with confidence. “I’m already some sort of an expert in the matter”.
“Really?” She asked. I started telling her everything about Hershko, about our security method (she wasn’t very impressed), about the groups and about the special experiences this trip gave us.
“Sounds fun”, she finally admitted. I smiled a smile of victory.
“We arrived”, she said. “Should I drop you off at your friend’s house or do you want to come on up for a coffee?”
“Hmmm… coffee?” I stammered. “Sure, why not”.
We went up to her place. Again these hitchhikes are making wonders.
“Sit here for a few minutes, make yourself comfortable”, she said. “I’ll go make the coffee”.
In a few minutes she was back with two glasses of wine.
“We’re out of coffee”, she said. I didn’t really care, and I quickly grabbed the glass out of her hand.
“To being young”, I said with confidence. “Cheers!” I drank the whole glass in one sip, and suddenly I started feeling dizzy… Lightning flashed, I sat on the couch and I was tired.
It took me ten minutes to realize I’m not in a dream anymore. I was stuck in the sand, on the beach, only my head peeking out. “Son of a bitch”, I yelled. I started going crazy. The sand was hard and it took me a few minutes to manage to get out. Few meters away was a piece of paper with small stones holding it so it won’t fly away with the wind. I picked it up and read it.
Dear Dror, I hope you are not taking this personally, I did everything for your own good, I hope now you’ll be scared from hitchhikes.
Hitchhikes? I chuckled. Women scare me much more…