New Photos

I have posted some new photos on my Flickr page. For some reason (which remains an irritating mystery to me)I am unable to save and therefor post a larger version of some of those photos here via this particular computer.

Click on the Flickr photo badge on this page to look at the new pics.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

Much more has happened since my trip out to New England, the Gulf States and (shudder) Kansas.

I will post updates about that soon.

In the meantime, I'm hoping and praying that I will figure out a way to finally repair the problem that is plaguing my left foot.

I will be in Central Oregon for the weekend.

Send me an email or a prayer or a miracle...

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The doctors gave me more bandages and medicine and put me in a cab back to the shelter.

I stayed in Denver and recuperated for four days before taking a cab back downtown and boarding a Greyhound bus to Grand Junction, Colorado.

There I checked into a Motel 6 for two more days before walking back up to the ramp and sticking out my thumb.

I didn't get very far that day but I did discover a VERY NICE motel in a quiet little town on the Colorado border.

The lady there, who ran the place, reminded me of a stereotypical Italian grandmother.

And for $42.00, she put me in a large, comfortable room with a full bath, a 27" TV, a microwave, refrigerator, large, fluffy towels, carved wood furniture and a king-size bed.

I picked up the phone, ordered pizza, salad and an ice cream sundae and soothed my burns in the tub.

I liked it there so much that I ended up staying for three days.

And with this post, I now catch up to THIS one.

Ruthie In The Sky, Update

I climbed into the back seat, shaking off the rain like a wet dog, and smiled at the wide-eyed little boy.

"How did you get out here??" asked the woman, her eyes reflecting concern in the rear view mirror.

"I'm hitchhiking through, got left at a rest area, called 911 and got dumped here by a jerk off State Trooper," I explained.

"Oh wow," she said and drove me to an all-night convenience store/small truck stop in Colby, Kansas and dropped me off.

I walked in and told the guy behind the counter that I was a stranded hitchhiker.

"Not anymore you're not," he declared and gave me a grin.

The young man, who was bored stiff in the middle of his midnight shift, grabbed some towels and let me take a shower for free. Then he gave me some ibuprofen for my sunburn and let me sit in a booth in the back of the store. He brought me food and drink and told me to take a nap.

At the end of his shift, he called his wife, and she drove us both to the local hospital emergency room.

The staff there examined my burns and gave me some cream and bandaged the blister/burns on my upper arms. They used clear bandages that are used for burn patients. And they also gave me some antibiotics.

Then they let me eat lunch in the hospital cafeteria before putting me on a Greyhound bus to Denver, Colorado.

When I got to Denver, I walked down to the Samaritan House and asked the lady there to help me.

She issued me a voucher for the Volunteers Of America "motel." I got there and discovered that it used to be an actual motel that is now a shelter. But the trick is, that place is accessible by referral only. I lucked-out.

The women there took one look at my burns, checked me into a private room and told me to go to a Denver Hospital clinic the following day.

I did...and two doctors looked at my arms and pronounced me the unfortunate recipient of second-degree burns.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

"I can only drive you to the County Line," he said and never told me why.

After about twenty-minutes or so, that Kansas State Trooper dropped me off on a dark ramp in a very isolated area.

Cold rain was coming down in sheets when he drove off and left me there.

I looked around and noticed a motel at the bottom of the hill and a truck fueling station on the other side of the overpass.

Before I decided which way to go, a big truck came roaring across the overpass and almost hit me.

"Whoa!" I said and jumped out of the way.

A minute later, a young woman with a little boy in a car, spotted me and turned around and stopped.

"Do you need help?!" she shouted out the window.

"Yeah!" I answered and sloshed through the puddles to her car.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I called 911 and requested a ride from the rest area to a safe location somewhere off of the interstate.

Fifteen-minutes later, a State Trooper showed up and checked my ID. Then he asked me, "Have you ever been in a hospital, before?"

I thought that was an odd question and asked him to elaborate.

He sneered at me and said, "I want to know if you've ever been placed in a psychiatric facility."

"No," I replied, "But I would recommend it to any free-thinking individual who considers visiting Kansas."

We glared at each other.

Then he put me in the front seat of his cruiser, where a camera reflected my image and recorded everything that I said and did.

Before he slid into his seat, I raised my finger and flipped-off the camera lens.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The next day, I headed for the Kansas border...with a great sense of relief and a terrible sunburn.

Huge blisters covered my upper arms. I was in pain and my skin was hot to the touch.

I knew that I had to get off the road and get some medical assistance.

And I did...but not easily.

My wild experience in Kansas wasn't over yet.

I got several rides and was eventually dropped off on a ramp by another small Kansas town.

A young man in a fuel truck stopped and offered me a ride.

I looked at the red fuel Haz Mat placards on the trailer tanks and knew that something wasn't right.

But I was tired, my sunburn was hurting and so I accepted the ride.

The guy, with a hick accent and covered with tattoos, drove me to a rest area and dropped me off.

"I gotta go dump this fuel and then I'll be back to pick ya up in a half-hour," explained the guy.

He never showed up.

And the State of Kansas doesn't allow hitchhiking on the interstate.

Night was coming, a new storm was brewing and I was trapped at the rest area.

"Oh shit," I thought and pulled out my cell phone.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

We climbed out of the SUV and ran into the office of the Motel 6.

Up on the wall, a TV broadcast updates from the Weather Channel. And several other people sat in chairs and waited to see what would happen next.

"I'm going to get you a room here, Ruthie," said Aaron.

"I suggest that you all stay here until things settle down," I replied.

After a long twenty-minutes, the sirens stopped and the sky cleared.

Aaron drove over to Arby's and got me some roast beef sandwiches and curly fries. Then we all walked in to the room at the motel.

I turned on the Weather Channel on TV and we watched the red, yellow and green Doppler patterns as they began to form again.

Then we held hands and prayed.

When I hugged them and said goodbye, I made up my mind that someday I will visit their home in Bolivar, Missouri.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The three people in the rig turned out to be Aaron, Kristen and Anna from Bolivar, Missouri.

They were young, happy, Christian and on their way to a friend's wedding in Hays, Kansas.

As we rode...we talked and discovered that we had many things in common.

Except hitchhiking.

And as the miles passed, the clouds grew thick, black and threatening above us.

By the time we reached Hays, the local tornado sirens were blaring and we quickly pulled into a Motel 6.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I got a ride out to the middle of nowhere again and sat in the grass by the ramp while the brutal Kansas sun silently burned my arms. The sunscreen that I had purchased earlier that week had opened in my pack and so I was exposed to every UV ray in the universe that day.

A man with long red hair and shiny metal beads hanging on the rear view mirror, stopped his big red pickup in the dust.

"Damn, woman...you're gettin' good and burned!" declared the man.

"Yeah, well, I need to get some quick, long rides out of this State!" I replied and put my face against the AC vents.

"I can get ya to Salina," he offered.

"Great," I replied and sat back in the comfortable seat and fell asleep.

The man woke me up when we got to Salina and dropped me off at a Flying J truck stop.

I got out, thanked the man, washed my face and arms off with cold water in the ladies room and then headed out to the ramp.

A grizzled, old hitchhiker with a cardboard sign and a dog, sat by the on ramp sign.

"Oh great," I thought and trudged right past him to a post farther up the ramp.

I sat down on my pack and drank some cold tap water from a recycled Dasani bottle.

The old man got up and walked up to me.

"Ya have to come back down by me, girlie," said the man.

"Go back down to your spot, Sir, and leave me alone," I directed.

"No, you listen to me...ya can't hitch up here...the cops'll get ya and then they'll hassle me!" the man said, in a louder voice.

I got up and glared at him. Then I put both hands on my hips and walked right into his personal space.

"Mind your own business, old man and get back down where YOU belong!" I said.

"Never mess with what you don't know," I warned him.

"If you don't get away from me right NOW, I'll call the police, myself!" I declared, and pulled my cell phone out of my purse.

The man looked at my face, then at my phone and finally walked back down to the entrance to the ramp.

I sat back down and then three young people in an SUV pulled up by the man.

"Yeah, do me a favor and get that old fart out of here," I mumbled.

After a few minutes of conversation, the SUV pulled up by me.

"We're going to Hays if that will help you," The driver said.

"You've got yourself a deal!" I said and watched the old man get up and shake his fist at me.

"Serves you right, dum ass, I thought, and climbed into the back seat of the rig.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The sun was already baking a new record when I walked out of that little town the next morning.

I was almost to the interstate when a lady pulled over and offered me a ride.

"Ya look hot!" she exclaimed.

"I sure am," I agreed and climbed in.

"Well...let's go to Mickey D's and I'll buy ya lunch before I put on the road," she offered.

I got a bag of snack wraps (my favorite meal at McDonald's) and two bottles of diet Mt. Dew.

Then the lady drove me over to the on ramp and dropped me off with a toot and a wave.

I plopped my pack in the grass, sat down on it and ate my meal.

Then, I got up and hitched a ride out of there. And I had no idea then what a wild day I would have.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I tried all day to get a ride. I even broke for lunch at the truck stop and then returned to my post.

FINALLY, I got picked up by a family who live in a small town off the interstate.

When they turned their vehicle toward their destination, they dropped me off on a totally dead ramp.

Out in the middle of nowhere.

I looked around, walked underneath the overpass bridge and peed on Kansas.

It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

And then I flagged down a lady who was delivering the rural mail. I told her that I needed to talk to an officer about finding shelter.

She drove into the little town and brought back the local law.

The officer turned out to be a perfect example of sanity and my saving grace.

He put me in the front seat of his cruiser and drove me over to the local cop shop.

Then he arranged for me to get some food, drink and a much-needed motel room for the night.

After I checked in to the motel, I walked over to the local grocery/convenience store with my food voucher.

And after side-stepping hound dog poo and sliding between pickup trucks, I realized that I was smack in the middle of redneck Kansas.

But when I hit the pillow in my room that night, I thought, "Yeehaw" and fell right to sleep.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The storm passed with a fury and when the atmosphere settled down, I walked back outside. I was standing there when a Park City cop pulled in his cruiser.

He was a fat, squat little man with the brain of a toilet tank flush ball.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, an idiot gave him a badge.

He asked for my ID. I handed it to him and he immediately reacted to my name.

"You gonna cause problems here?"

"And are you related?"

He was referring to my last name. A man named Dennis Rader was convicted in 2004 of killing men, women and children over a span of thirty-years. He was known as the serial killer "BTK" and lived in Park City, Kansas.

I rolled my eyes and didn't offer any information past what was necessary to that horse's ass.

He put me in the back of his car and drove me to the nearby town of Newton and dropped me off.

I stayed there, at the truck stop, for the rest of the night.

When dawn illuminated the puddles in the road, I walked back out to the ramp.

I stuck out my thumb...and didn't know that it would take a very unusual series of occurrences before I would sleep in a bed again.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I was sitting on the floor, inside a stall, when the storm hit.

And I know that because I felt the whole building begin to shake.

And through the vents, it sounded like someone was washing the side of the store with a power hose.

I got up and went out to the main part of the store and looked out the large window.

It looked like we were in the midst of a hurricane.

Rain gushed down in sheets from the top of the fuel canopy and the traffic signal lights spun around in the wind.

"Okay, Dorothy," I thought, "Just how bad is this storm going to get?"

Ruthie On The Road, Update

A State patrolman stopped his cruiser and told me that I couldn't hitchhike where I was standing.

Then he drove me to a secondary highway that led down into darkness, dropped me off and quickly sped away.

I stood there for a moment and surveyed the sky. Lightening flashed in the distance and a sudden breeze ruffled my hair.

"Some thing's up," I thought.

A man finally drove by me and then braked to a stop.

"What are you doing out here?" asked the man, after he rolled his car back to me.

"Ask Officer Dudley Do-Wrong," I replied and opened the car door.

"Well, I can take you to a better spot," the man said.

And he did.

The man dropped me off by a ramp and near a convenience store.

Thunder began to rumble like the bad end of a dog's growl.

I slipped on my headphones and switched my Walkman to the NOAA weather band.

"Bee bonk" "Bee bonk" "Beep-beep-beep"

I caught the entire series of familiar warning sounds that are always issued by the National Weather Service in the event of severe weather.

And my memory flashed on the night, years ago, when I was caught in the path of a tornado, in the middle of the night, just outside of Hudson, Wisconsin.

I decided to go inside the convenience store.

The employee in there didn't like me and I didn't care.

I told him that I was going to go into the ladies room and wait to see what the weather did.

"You can't spend all night in there, you know," he declared with a glare.

"You better hope that this store remains intact all night, buddy," I replied and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Kyle

I met Kyle on the interstate north of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

He is a young man with a naive view of the world and upper-class sacred stars in his eyes.

Kyle grew up in a warm, protective loaf of Baptist-white Wonder Bread.

Until he met me, he was convinced that every flaw in the social structure of the United States wasn't any Christians' fault.

He thinks otherwise now.

Kyle drove me north from OKC to Wichita, Kansas.

When we arrived in Wichita, he called every shelter that was listed in the Yellow Pages.

We even called the Salvation Army and the police department.

No one would open their door to me and none of the shelters had room to keep me...even for one night.

In the end, Kyle drove me out to a travel center and left me with a Big Mac and a prayer.

When I finished eating, I walked out to the highway and smelled sulfur in the air.

That's when I knew that I was in Kansas...where some big storms, like Kyle's new dose of reality...were about to hit us hard.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

As I hitchhiked through the South, I marveled at how different that section of the United States is...from everywhere else in the Country.

At one point, I suffered something that I've never experienced before: An asthma attack.

It started like a tickle in my chest and rapidly grew worse. I coughed, hacked and drew ragged breaths that evolved into a raspy wheeze.

I learned that the deep Southern Spring pollen coupled with the intense heat and humidity will do bad things to some Yankees.

Everywhere I went, many folks greeted me with a friendly "good mornin'", held the door for me and addressed me as "MISS" Ruth.

And I have memories...like the evening when a woman picked me up by the interstate near Batesville, Mississippi. She took me to the local police station where the cops dispatched me to a roach motel.

Before I made a stand, the motel "staff" assigned me a room that didn't lock.

Yes, that's right.

It didn't lock...at all.

I walked in the room with a key that turned out to be meaningless. And I looked back and discovered a two-inch hole in the door where the locking mechanism used to be.

And then there's Cathy, the big-rig trucker who resembled and acted very much like Whoopi Goldberg.

She saw me trudging, with my last bit of energy, up the interstate, outside of Little Rock, Arkansas.

And she stopped her truck, offered me a ride and drove me all the way to downtown Dallas, Texas.

When we got there, she handed me over to her friend, Milton, another trucker, who happily drove me to Oklahoma City.

And with that...I said goodbye to the South. Again.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The couple introduced me to their daughter, who just graduated from college and showed me around their (very) nicely decorated home.

The next morning, I sipped coffee at a small table by their backyard garden. The backyard isn't really a conventional yard at all. The couple has worked very hard and spent a great deal of money to install fountains, waterfalls, flowers and bonsai trees EVERYWHERE behind their house.

It's a virtual organic fairyland back there!

When the woman went to pick up a girl (the daughter of a friend) I saw a totally different type of landscape.

Shacks, constructed of tar paper, tin and unpainted wood, huddled together like a carpenter's old mistake. And dust, from the alley, blew across random patches of faded yellow grass.

It was and IS a social tragedy...right there in front of me...in 21st Century Selma, America.

From one of those unholy hovels, a thirteen-year-old girl appeared and quickly ran down the steps of the rickety front porch.

She waved as she approached the car, opened the door, and smiled as she slid into the
back seat.

"I drive her to school when her mother's workin'," explained the woman.

"How much does her mama make?" I wondered to myself.

And before we drove away from that symbol of the failure of civil rights, I got out and snapped three photos.

I will post those pictures soon.

And I'm not sure what pissed me off more: That pathetic neighborhood or the so-called "Christian" woman's blase attitude toward it all.

It was as if she truly believed that darkies should still "know their place" in Selma, Alabama.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

"We're a really open clan here, so you will be safe here tonight," explained the man.

I stared at it and said, "Say what?"

"Huh?" asked the man.

"She don't want to stay in the trailer tonight with it all open like that," said the woman.

"You're right, I don't," I said, gazing at the wide-open sleeping area.

"Well...shoot, I thought that you'd like the cool night breezes," shrugged the man, closing the wall back up.

"After your snake warning, I think I'll skip it," I said.

The woman laughed again.

I slept in the trailer, fully-enclosed and enjoyed the breeze from the open window and a fan.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The couple drove me to their home in Selma, Alabama. And as we rode slowly into town, I searched the streets for any sign of Forrest Gump.

The man explained that he was a preacher of sorts and then pointed at his bare chest.

"I don't like to wear shirts much."

"I don't have that option," I responded.

They both laughed and pulled their old SUV into the driveway.

"Well...we'll get you fed and then you can sleep in the trailer tonight," said the man.

I looked at the white box-like structure on wheels at the end of the driveway.

The man pointed at it and said, "It's a hot night so you might want to pull down the side wall there and sleep with it open."

Then he got out of the rig, undid two latches and one entire side of the trailer came down.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The woman eventually dropped me off near the airport outside of Montgomery, Alabama.

She said, "This is highway 80...you can hitchhike on it all the way to Selma."

I walked up the long ramp as the sun began to set.

And I had no idea what a risk that was...until an old SUV pulled over right beside me and stopped.

A grizzled older man, with no shirt on, smiled at me from the front passenger seat. His wife (the driver) peeked over her husband's shoulder and smiled at me.

"Yer a lady!" exclaimed the man.

"Excellent observation," I replied.

"Well, what are you doing out here right now?" he asked, a tone of genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm trying to find shelter for the night," I explained and the man reached back and unlocked the back door.

"Get in, lady," the man directed, recognizing my Northern accent, "You don't know what you're headin' into goin' down this road at this time of day."

"No, you sure don't," agreed his wife.

"Why, what have I got to worry about?" I asked, totally amused by their Gulf State persona.

"Well, fer starters...SNAKES!" declared the man, spreading his big arms wide.

"Ah, go on," I said and snickered at him.

"He ain't kiddin'," said the woman, finding my eyes in her rear view mirror.

"You never been down here before, have ya?" asked the man.

"I've been to Alabama before," I replied.

"And I never got bit by any old serpent, gator, snake or crocodile," I explained and laughed.

"Well, then you never walked at night down any roads 'round Selma!" replied the man.

"That's true," I agreed and the couple described the snake problem and the curse of the full moon as we rode to Selma.

They also told me about the infamous "Bloody Sunday" march that took place over twenty-five years ago between Selma and Montgomery.

Their tale of that terrible day made me sad. I decided that it was more terrible than any snake will ever be on that stretch of highway.

Ruthie In The Sky, Update

So, late in the afternoon, I boarded a bus, sat down, cranked my seat back and thought about Oregon.

By the time I reached Effingham, Illinois, I was totally sick of the ride and bailed-out of the bus.

I did my laundry, took a shower and then walked down to the ramp that would take me away from the Midwest.

A few hours later, I got away from it, alright!

When I began to get discouraged, a woman pulled over and offered me a ride. She was heading back home. To Montgomery, Alabama.

I considered my options for a moment and then thought, "Oh heck, why not?" and climbed into her car.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The rain stopped and I was picked up by a man who has an interesting career: he's organizing "Green Job" training centers all over the United States. He drove me to the Lebanon, New Hampshire area where I met Alan...the guy that I am still corresponding with.

Alan works with a wonderful group of people who provided me with food, a night in a motel, cash and a one-way ticket back to Ontario, Oregon.

I like Alan because he LISTENS and is never bitter about anything. He is kind and has a great outlook on life.

Before he took me to the bus station in White River Junction, Vermont, Alan drove me around the area. And during the tour, I spotted an old hotel that I vow to stay in someday.

I regret that I didn't have a way to remain in that area for awhile.

But Alan and I remain Internet pen-pals to this day.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

After the fiasco in Brattleboro, Vermont (see "Ruthie In New England III" in the May archives)and a night in Claremont, New Hampshire...I left on the road again.

After all, nobody in Claremont really wanted to me to stay.

That section of New England is slowly dying from METH and an ailing economy.

And after being kicked to the curb by every agency in town, I walked out of Claremont.

When I sat down on a guard rail, it began to rain.

After about fifteen-minutes, I was picked up by a man in a big, black pickup truck.

He was young and looked tired.

After a minute, he said, "I just had a big fight with my wife and she kicked me out of the house."

Then he laughed and said, "It's happened before and it will probably happen again."

"What's more important," I asked him "The fact that she threw you out or the subject of the argument?"

The driver stayed silent for a moment, and then replied, "You know, I'm gonna have to think about that."

Then he stopped the truck by a ramp, handed me a twenty dollar bill and said, "Thank you."

Ruthie On The Road, Update

When I reached Springfield, Massachusetts, I checked-out the local homeless shelter and decided not to stay there.

I didn't like the skanky people with their bad attitude. After one glance, it was obvious that they just wanted to rip me off after I cleaned up their mess.

So I walked back down to the Greyhound station and was told that it would close at ten o'clock that night. I wouldn't be able to catch another bus until morning.

So I waited until the bus station closed and then I went outside and sat on a nearby bench.

"Great," I thought "Now I'm going to be stuck out here all night. And the wind is beginning to turn cold."

After everyone rode away on another bus, a single young man remained behind.

He introduced himself as "Angel."

And he not only kept me company all night, but he also bought me hot coffee and donuts, too. And Angel bought me breakfast in the morning and made sure that I got on a bus to Vermont.

Then he disappeared.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

For those of you who are wondering...YES...I am ALIVE!

And I still have to update you about New England, Alabama, Mississippi, Kansas, Washington State, Montana and what is going on today.

I have been very busy on the road...literally.

I promise you an update soon.

Greyhound: Strike Three

Read the article by clicking the post headline above. I told you so...Greyhound, Strike Three.

A Single Prayer In Pasco

I interrupt this series of updates to post a copy of a letter that I am sending out to many different sources after my bad experience last night in Pasco, Washington:

I came to the women's "rescue" mission for the first time last year. When I walked in,
I asked if I could get something to eat. I had been hitchhiking all
day and I was in need of a meal.

The woman gave a disgusted sigh and got me a cup of ramen noodles.

Then she went and got herself a heaping plate of real food from a kitchen area.

I looked at the noodles and I looked at her plate and she told me to
go eat on the bench in the hallway.

I stayed the night there but it was obvious that only a few women were
staying there.

And those women were afraid to make a peep.

There's something very wrong with that.

The next morning, I woke up when I was supposed to and went to find a
staff person. I wanted to get some information about breakfast and
transportation.

I knocked on the office door and finally got an angry response. The
woman appeared to be tired/under the influence.

Our conversation went nowhere and she told me to leave.

Last night, I returned. A year later.

A nice, Christian couple picked me up as I was hitchhiking over the
big bridge. I told them what happened at the mission last year.

When we got to the mission door, it was locked. So we knocked on it.
Finally a woman answered and said, "There's a doorbell there...and it
works!"

The man noticed her rude behavior and asked if they would guarantee me
a bed for the night. The woman promised him that I could stay there.

So the couple hugged me and drove away.

I walked in the mission door and another woman walked out into the
hallway and told me that I couldn't stay there. She said that she
remembered me from last year and added, "You caused us a whole lot of
trouble last year."

I tried to reason with her but she made me leave. I called the police
but they were no help. I went to the hospital but they didn't help.
Finally, I went to a gas station and told the cashier my story. Her
friend came in and kindly offered his home for the night. He was and
is a total gentleman and a practicing Christian.

When your mission let me down...God took my hand, instead.

Your missions are no more related to the Gospels than the workers
souls are linked to the Lord.

Shame on you and your people.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I have to leave this library soon. Therefor, I will be unable to continue on my updates today. Sorry about that. But I will do my best to continue my story tomorrow.

My updates will include my time in New England, back to Illinois and down to Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Utah.

Click on June 2008 in the Archive List to read all of the recent updates.

Thanks for reading. And Kyle...this is for you.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The next morning, I hitchhiked from Du Bois to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. I reached that city as the sun was about to set.

Because I didn't choose to establish residency in Wilkes-Barre, I was only allowed to stay at the local women's shelter for three days.

But what a great three days it was!

The staff at that shelter couldn't have been nicer.

I ate, slept, did my laundry, restocked necessary supplies and left on a bus.

I was STRONGLY ADVISED NOT to hitchhike out of Wilkes-Barre. They apparently really frown on highway solicitation in that city.

The bus took me up to Springfield, Massachusetts...and an angel.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

In Eastern Nebraska, I met a man that I will call The Destination Dude. He was a young man who was determined to drive his SUV almost non-stop to his home in Quincy, Massachusetts.

He was just starting his journey when he brought me on board.

He was okay when we reached Des Moines, Iowa and Chicago, too. And when we reached Toledo, Ohio, he just blew right through.

But when we reached Pennsylvania, he began to fall apart.

By the time we got to Clarion, PA, The Destination Dude started raving.

When we stopped for gas in Du Bois, PA, I made a break for it.

I found a State Trooper inside the convenience store and told him that The Destination Dude may be driving on a suspended license. I also told the cop that The Destination Dude was strung-out from lack of sleep and was starting to come unglued.

The State Trooper gave The Dude a citation and an escort to an unknown Destination.

The local cop gave me food, drink and a motel room.

Which just proves that one is usually better off to quit while one is ahead.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I walked down the ramp outside of Dillon, Montana and walked up a hill on the interstate. Suddenly, the sky opened up and dropped a freezing cold shower on me. Then the wind began to blow and chilled me to my bones.

In a twist of natural irony, the sun suddenly broke through the storm and painted two enormous, vivid rainbows behind me.

"Are you lucky?!" I shouted at them, through chattering teeth.

With movie-like timing, a flatbed semi rolled past me and skidded to a stop.

The driver pulled me into the cab, covered me with a blanket, handed me a towel and turned up the heat full-blast.

He was great company and he drove me all the way to Nebraska.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The guy who picked me up outside of Idaho Falls, Idaho is a Mormon. And when I told him the story about the couple and their boat in Idaho Falls, he just shook his head.

"I think that they have too much," I said.

"If they didn't have so many big, expensive things to worry about then they might have been happier with each other and the rest of the world this morning," I declared.

"I think you're right, Ruthie," he said and I was shocked by his automatic response.

"You're not going to argue with me?" I asked in a surprised tone of voice.

"No, there's nothing to argue about," he replied.

"I think that they were more concerned with my have-not status than I was with their have quota," I said.

"Actually, I think you scared them," he answered.

"How??!" I asked, watching his face.

"They saw your pack, right?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Well, that pack represents a sort of freedom that they know they'll never find on that big, chrome-covered boat," he explained.

I thought about what he said and I decided that for such a young man, he had a tremendous amount of insight into the human psyche. The Mormon one, anyway.

When we got to Dillon, Montana, he bought me a meal at Mickey D's and dropped me off on the ramp.

As he drove away, I wondered when I was ever going to really stop and get a decent rest again.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I walked a ways down the interstate, and another cop car pulled up behind me.

And after a minute, a cop that I saw last year on the same stretch of interstate, walked up to me with a big grin on his face.

"Well, how ya doin'...long time no see, lady...so you're coming back through here again, are ya?" He said, that smile still on his face.

"Yeah and I'm aiming for the guardrail under that overpass," I said.

He knew exactly what I meant.

He snickered, never asked for my ID, and told me that he'd check on me later. I told him that by that time I'd be long gone.

That made him laugh.

"Yeah," I thought to myself, "I can always count on a cop for a solid vote of confidence."

Then I limped up to the guardrail, sat down, took a long swallow from my water bottle and then stuck out my thumb.

After about a half hour of thumb-waving, a young man pulled over and gave me a ride to Dillon, Montana.

I rejoiced in the fact that I was finally out of Idaho!

Ruthie On The Road, Update

The next morning, I got tired of sitting on that ramp and walked up on to the interstate.

Now, Idaho has a kinda-sorta universal rule that says that a person can walk on the shoulder of the interstate...but not hitchhike or fly a sign.

Which is something that I will never understand.

Anyway, at that point, I didn't care what anybody said...I just wanted to get the hell out of there!

So, I walked up a respectable distance, dropped my pack, turned around and stuck out my thumb.

About ten-minutes later, a guy stopped and picked me up. Just like that. After I waited on that stupid ramp all night!

He gave me some hot coffee from his thermos and dropped me off at a park in downtown Idaho Falls, Idaho.

He said that he had some things to do and would return to help me out.

I put on my fleece jacket (it was cold there by the river), put my head on my pack and fell right to sleep.

About an hour later, I was awakened by a couple who were having a noisy discussion by the boat launch.

The man wanted to put the boat in the water one way and the woman wanted to do it another way.

I stared at them, their over sized SUV and their black and chrome (yes, it was trimmed in chrome!) boat. The woman saw me first and whispered something to the man.
He turned around and shot me a disgusted glance before he returned to his Very Important Boat problem.

On a whim I decided to ask them if they were LDS.

They both turned around and nodded "yes."

The picture became very clear to me then and I put my head back on my pack and drifted back to sleep.

The guy who had picked me up in Black Foot finally returned and asked me if I wanted to get a motel room with him.

"No," I replied and he drove me down to the ramp to the interstate.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I had no choice but to click on my powerful Smith & Wesson LED flashlight and walk down that ramp. I waved my light all over the place (it shines a mile and changes color from white to red to blue if I set it that way)and hoped that I wouldn't get hit.

Why didn't I stay on the ramp?

Because past experience has taught me that the Idaho runs its hitchhiking rules different ways in different parts of the State.

And I am aware that that particular stretch of road is usually patrolled by the crankiest cops in Idaho. So, I didn't even think of sitting on that ramp for even five minutes!

After I walked about a mile, a bright light appeared behind me. And I knew before I turned around that the chances that the light represented a flying saucer or a Hollywood director were probably out. In other words, I knew that it was time to say "Oh, no...it's the Po-Po."

Sure enough, a cop with a hat that I firmly believe was modeled after the one worn by Mr. Potato Head...climbed out of his car.

He asked me what I was doing. I thought for a second and decided that I would not give him my first choice for an answer.

He turned-out to be surprisingly kind and also high up on the authority chain.

After running my plastic, he put me in the back of his car and drove me into Black Foot. Then he told me that I could hitchhike from the ramp. And he added that if anyone had a question, to contact him and then he handed me his card.

I still have it.

About fifteen-minutes later, another State Trooper pulled-up and told me to get off the ramp.

I showed him the other officer's card and said that I was given permission to hitchhike there.

"Yeah?" he sneered.

"Well, I'm going to contact him right now and if you're lying to me, then I'm gonna give you a ticket," he said.

"Oh, whatever," I said and sat down on my pack.

A few minutes later the cop said, "Well, he says that he's gonna let you hitchhike here and he's the boss. But don't go up on the interstate, you understand?" he asked.

"Gotcha," I replied and even though I had permission to hitchhike...nobody picked me up from that spot the rest of that night.

Sure enough

Ruthie On The Road, Update

No more than five minutes after "Frankie" left, a big guy with big hands and a bigger smile, stopped and picked me up. He took me to his house in Mountain Home, Idaho and showed me his collection of hand-made dulcimers. I was amazed to realize that a man with such large hands could produce something so delicate.

Then he took a video of me (his other hobby) and burned a DVD copy of it and gave it to me. Unfortunately, the DVD contains flaws so I'm unable to post it here.

When his daughter returned from school, The Dulcimer Guy drove me from Mountain Home to a ramp that's located twelve miles south of Black Foot, Idaho. He took me past Pocatello! In other words, it was a very generous gesture on his part.

But when I turned away from his car, I looked down the ramp and saw the dark interstate.

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I am going to roll the tape back to the beginning of my trip to New England. But before I do...HELLO! TO ALL OF YOU!! I am sorry that I didn't update my blog sooner...but I have been hard and heavy on the roads of the continental United States for the past month.

Today I am in a small town in Utah...banging away on this keyboard for all I'm worth. Yeehaw!

I will start with one of my first rides...where I was picked-up by an Italian (according to him) guy named "Frankie."

I usually don't get into a car like his (black, fastback with tinted windows) but something urged me to listen to his story. When he stopped beside me, he looked shell-shocked, heartbroken and on the verge of panic.

Frankie picked me up about twenty miles outside the city of Boise, Idaho.

One of the first sentences out of his mouth was: "I don't know you and so I feel that I can share my admission of guilt for doing a terrible thing." And then he went on to share a rambling story that didn't make total sense.

His words weren't wrong...he just danced around the bottom line and left out some major details. But I got the general idea of what Frankie did.

After listening to him for awhile, I told Frankie to humble himself before God and square things away with Him. Then I told him to "man-up" and turn himself in.

Frankie slammed his right fist on the steering wheel and declared, "I'm really sorry for what I did and I can't live with it."

I told him to follow my two directives and everything would settle itself in the right way.

Frankie dropped me off on a lonely overpass between Boise and Mountain Home, Idaho. He was sobbing.

I said, "We met for a reason ...now go do your duty to God and man...it's the only way that you'll save the most valuable part of yourself: your soul."

"Okay, Ruthie...okay, I'll do it," he said and I hope that he did.

Post Script:

There are those who believe that Frankie might have committed a murder shortly before he picked me up and that his initial intention was to take me as a hostage.

But the more that I advised him in a calm, confident voice...the more that Frankie began to hang his very existence on every word that I said.

In the end, Frankie turned his car back toward Boise and I walked down the opposite ramp with my shoulders safely wrapped in my guardian angels' wing.