The perception of danger - Hitchhiking
Words by Katie Harris, image by Java Katzur
It was summer 2017. A previous bout of first-year post orientation week glandular fever had left me two papers behind. So, this summer, instead of packing Shakti’s or selling surfboards I decided to spend it frolicking around the country- doing my papers by correspondence and subsisting off student living costs.
The idea was that I would flit between friends’ houses, spending the majority of my ‘Funemployment’ in Wanaka at my friend Laura’s batch. I made three trips to Wanaka that summer. The first was en route home to Christchurch following Christmas in Arrowtown, and the second was for two weeks before continuing on to surf in Dunedin.
On my final trip I wanted to do things a little differently. It was a combination of a) being too poor to pay for petrol b) wanting to reduce my environmental impacts and last but most importantly c) adventure.
We always hear stories from before our time. Baby boomers describing wild trips hitchhiking through Europe, smoking weed and making love on the beach. All the while lecturing us that times have changed, and we should never do what they did.
But this was my summer.
I caught a one-way ride on the way down with a handsome rugby boy and left the back end of my trip up to chance. Between assignments, I spent the week pottering around, eating bliss balls in the sun and returning to the same bars I snuck into in year twelve- this time legally. Eventually, real life caught up with me and I had to tend to my responsibilities back home. Despite my mother’s desperate pleas to keep me from hitchhiking, I made the decision and stuck to it.
I mean, how hard can hitchhiking really be?
That Saturday Laura dropped me off outside Puzzling World and with only my thumbs and a purple backpack I began the journey home. The first car to pull over was a SUV- and a nice one. The couple were stoked and said they loved picking up hitchhikers. Although, they only drove me for thirty minutes it was an easy transition into my new hitchhiking life.
The next ride I hopped in on was with three forty-year-old men on a lads trip. The guys were headed to the Lindis on a mountain biking mission- and although they could only drop me in the pass, I’m not one to miss a lad’s trip, so naturally I joined them.
In the car we discussed surfing, biking, beer and everything in between.
Short but sweet, they dropped me off half-way through the pass. And again, it was just me and my back pack. Standing alone, in the middle of the Lindis with drops of rain starting to settle in, I had a slight pang of anxiety. What if no one picked me up? What if I was stranded overnight or worse, what if I ran out of food before even getting to lunch. My thoughts were getting away on me, but the first chance I had to stick my thumb out a maroon rental car swerved my way.
Out of the vehicle popped two of the most gorgeous yo-pros I have ever seen. The blonde couple started chatting to me and within minutes I’d fallen in ‘couple goals’ love with them.
Both of them worked for one of the biggest sports-brands in the world and were fit AF. Despite the language barrier, my (then) passion for fitness carried us through for through till Tekapo, when the pair decided to stop for a hike- classic. Standing opposite the gas station, I was feeling a little more confident. In spite of the weather Tekapo was still a relatively happenin' tourist joint. Assuming I’d be picked up in minutes I nonchalantly waited. And waited. And waited. It was half an hour before a Czech tourist picked me up.
His car smelled liked the seventies- and not in a good way.
Five minutes into our road trip he asked me on a date. Now, when you’re with a strange man, driving 100 kmph it is rather awkward to say that actually you’d rather not. I ended up having lunch with him, in Twizel. At the time, unfortunately, Acaì bowls hadn’t quite reached the town, and the staff indicated the closest thing to meat-free was the chicken sandwich.
And as only a very casual vegetarian at the time, I obliged. It was sweet, but awkward, and after lunch I bid him adieu.
I was on the home stretch when I jumped into a car with a grey-haired couple. I can’t for the life of me remember his name, but hers was Wendy. The pair had met up a mountain, in a foreign country, whilst both travelling the world separately - and from what I recall, had hitched through Europe in their twenties.
Between bouts of feeding me homemade slice, they told me about their own travels and the adventures they’d shared.
At the end of our time together, they gave me a (friendly) lecture on the dangers of hitchhiking as a young woman.
People often feel like telling woman what they should and shouldn’t do.
Each person who picked me up that day said I shouldn’t be hitchhiking. I’m sure all of their intentions were good, from their perspective they probably thought ‘thank goodness it was me who picked her up.’ Before reminding me of the fact that there were very bad people out there.
And I totally get it, I mean, a girl alone in the big wide world, getting into cars with STRANGERS. How terrifying. Even walking the dog at night I am constantly told is ‘too dangerous’ by friends and family.
But men saying to women they are ‘putting themselves at risk’ is another way the patriarchy seeks to controls the lived experience of women. Want to travel alone? Don’t, you’ll definitely get attacked. Have a dream of working in the middle east? Don’t be ridiculous! Don’t you know there are bad guys there.
Thought you’d get drunk tonight? Hmm don’t you know if you drink a bad man might hurt you.
We are constantly warned about these bad men. The man in the shadows. The creep at the club. The one laying in waiting. And in some cases, yes, it might be. But time after time statistics prove that those we know are more likely to be responsible.
According to Rape Abuse and Incest National Network, eight out of ten rapists are known by the victim. When you consider New Zealand’s frankly shocking intimate partner violence rates, it’s a wonder people don’t warn you about having a partner altogether.
The Are You Okay website also reports that one in three woman will experience physical and or sexual violence from a partner in their lifetime.
When I wanted to hitchhike, everyone said I shouldn’t because I was a young, single, woman. They said I should know better. They reminded me of the last girl who was killed hitchhiking. What they didn’t say was that I am more likely to die at the hands of someone I know.
Don’t let the fear of what might happen hold you back from living your life. If you want to travel alone, do it. If you want to walk alone at night, then bloody well do it.
And if putting your thumb up for an adventure is what you want, don’t let fear hold you back.
Happy hitchin’