Hitch-Hiking

Eastern had a spring break that usually coincided with Easter.  The previous year I found odd jobs around town during this period to earn extra money.  The college employment office maintained a bulletin board that carried notices of temporary work opportunities in the community.  It was a needed service for many college students on tight budgets. 

                                                           

This spring I chose to visit Dad.  He had written and invited me to come visit him when I could.  He offered to send me money for the trip if I could find time.  When I decided to visit over spring break there wasn’t time to get a letter off to him and get his response back.  I phoned, but didn’t make contact.   I was taking a chance he would be home when I arrived.  I felt sure I could find my way having been over there once with my sisters.  I had a little money for the ferry and purchasing something to eat.  The big question was how do I get from Eastern to the ferry?

Tom was going home to Silver Creek and offered me a ride to the outskirts of Seattle where his road turned south.  He thought I could find a ride from there to the ferry dock, particularly if I wore my new letter jacket. He thought there would be a few college students hitch-hiking home for Easter.  He was right.  I was hardly situated on the side of the road when a convertible pulled over for me.  It was a young woman driving and she wanted to know where I was going.  I told her the ferry dock was my destination and I would appreciate a lift as far as she was going in that direction.  “Your in luck” she responded, “I’m going right by there.”

I settled back in the seat as she whisked out into traffic.  How lucky could I be and it was a beautiful day?  I just hoped it would continue.  It was hard to talk with the roar of the traffic and wind but she did her best to find out who I was and asked other typical questions.  She was a fast driver and knew how to get around in heavy traffic.  In a short time she pulled to the curb in front of the ferry terminal.  I thanked her for a quality ride and hoped it hadn’t taken her too far out of her way.  She assured me it hadn’t, wished me luck and sped away.

It was mid-afternoon and time for a bite to eat.  The ferry terminal had a cafeteria that looked interesting, so I ordered a bowel of clam chowder.  I thought being in fish territory it would be best to order a native dish.  It was delicious.  I realized it was time to check the ferry schedules and hoped my luck still held.

A ferry ran between Seattle and Bremerton on the hour so I found the ticket office and purchased a one-way fare.  I had a half hour to wait, and used the time to tour the dock.  Looking over the edge an abundance of sea life could be seen.  I had no idea what some of the specimens were.  I recognized the jelly fish with their translucent skirts.  I was so intent on analyzing the sea creatures I almost jumped overboard when the ferry gave a blast as it glided into the slip.

The sun was sinking low over the water as the ferry approached the Bremerton dock.  I recalled the little ferry that we rode to Port Orchard left close by this big dock.  What worried me was that it would be getting dark and Dad didn’t know I was coming.  I thought I could find my way up to his house but, it would be tricky at night.  If only I had tried getting in touch with Dad a few days earlier.  The decision to make the trip was a spur of the moment decision.  I decided to look for a phone in the terminal and give Dad another call.  This time there was a voice on the other end of the line.  It was Kathryn and she called my dad.  They had worried when they saw I had phoned earlier, as there wasn’t sufficient information to tell them when I would arrive.  I apologized and explained I hadn’t known myself.  They were glad to hear I was close and we agreed I should catch the little ferry to Port Orchard where Dad would meet me with the car.  The little ferry was due to leave shortly, so I wasted no time to board.  After the large ferry, this seemed close to the water and erratic in its path across.

It was good to see Dad again.  The last time we were together was on his last trip to the ranch two years previously.  He kept looking at me and commented on how I had grown.  My 6 foot 8 inch height blew him away.  He was shorter than Grandpa and much shorter than his brother Earl.  There were so many things I wanted to talk about, but it was time to drive back to his home and see the rest of the family.   Kathryn had dinner on and it smelled very appetizing.  Their son, Dick had grown some but it was obvious he wasn’t going to be a tall man.  On the other hand, Darrel, their younger son, was filling out and up.  He would pass up Dick eventually.

After we said hello to each other and I briefly told them of my trip over, we all sat down to dinner.  Dad was full of questions about school and the basketball team.  The boys were all eyes and ears as I gave an accounting of the school work I was doing and all the details of my college basketball experience.  Dick wanted to know if all the team was as tall as me.  I assured him I was the tallest player on our team, but we played teams that had players even taller.  The conversation continued on into the evening as we moved into the living room.  I let them know this would be a short visit as the college would continue spring quarter next week.  Dad said he was going to buy me a bus ticket for the trip back.  He didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be hitch-hiking by myself.  I didn’t argue the point as I was concerned about finding rides all the way back and arriving on time.

Dad had to work the next day, but he had the weekend off and wanted to show me around.  It sounded fine to me.  He suggested I try his metal lathe located on the back porch, tomorrow.  I asked if I could help any at his work, secretly hoping he’d say no.  I was excited about working on his metal lathe.  Dad said work would be boring as he would be welding most of the day.  He gave me a quick lesson on the lath and identified metal stock I could work with.  We worked with the lath until Kathryn called us in for bed.

I was on the lath as soon as I finished breakfast and continued the rest of the day with a short break for lunch.  I was fascinated with how it worked, shaving ribbons of steel off the work as it turned in the chuck.  I had studied wood turning and while work on the metal lath was different, some skills did transfer; I turned out several small cups from a piece of round stock, one fitted with a lid. That was a little tricky to accomplish.  Dad was impressed with my work.  That one day was the only time I had to work on the lath.  Dad joked I would have to come over more often.  I think that is why after Dad’s death, Kathryn wrote explaining that Dad wanted me to have the lathe. 

The time flew, and soon it was time to return to Cheney.  Dad had checked the bus schedule and if I wanted to arrive in Cheney at a decent hour I needed to take a morning ferry to Seattle.  I gathered my belongings together and after a round of hugs and goodbyes got in the pickup with Dad.  We drove around the arm of Puget Sound to Bremerton.  We had a few minutes to visit before the Ferry arrived.  I told him how I had enjoyed the visit and he encouraged me to do it again when I could.  With a hug and warm goodbye I headed for the Ferry terminal office.

It was dark and all was quiet as I plodded up the hill to Sutton Hall.  The dorm was quiet, which almost never happened.  I began to wonder if I had returned too early.  Tom Plant was in our room reading.  He looked up with a big grin as I came in.  He commented he was wondering how the hitch-hiking was going after dark.  I explained the change in plans and he agreed it might have been questionable to return using my thumb.  We talked about our vacations.  It seemed Tom and his Dad didn’t get along too well.  I showed him the metal lathe work I had done, and expressed my desire to learn more about that type of work.  Tom was impressed and told me the high schools were now teaching metal lath work.  He thought since Dr. VandeBerg had been hired for metalwork they might be preparing for lathe work here.  I didn’t express much enthusiasm in getting more C’s from that instructor.  Tom agreed as he had received his share of “Dr. Vandy” C’s. On that note we called it a day.

*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.