Who Says Ideas Don't Have Consequences?

One of my hitch-hiking buddies
in UT. enjoying the scenery, 1971

It’s no secret my early ‘70s impulse to travel was inspired by popular culture. Travels with Bronson (TV) and Easy Rider (film) fostered wanderlust. A friend’s journey to and from New Orleans by thumb gave me itchy feet. But without a doubt the sweet harmonies and cleaver guitar licks of AM radio had the greatest impact.

I was told to: Get out of this place (Eric Burdon), Head out on the highway (Steppenwolf), Get a move on (Dave Clark V), Hit the road (Ray Charles), Ride captain, ride! (Blues Image), Join a traveling band (Neil Diamond), Ramble on (Led Zeppelin), and get On the road again (Canned Heat).

I was told I was: Born to be wild (Steppenwolf), Born to wander (Rare Earth), and Born free (Roger Williams).

I was told to go to: San Francisco (Scott McKenzie), San Jose (Dionne Warwick), Massachusetts (Bee Gees), Nashville (Lovin’ Spoonful), USSR (Beatles), California (Mamas and the Papas, Scott McKenzie), Arizona (Paul Revere and the Raiders), New Orleans (Judy Collins, Arlo Guthrie), Phoenix, Galveston and Wichita (Glenn Campbell), Lodi (Creedence Clearwater Revival), Marrakesh (Crosby Stills and Nash), Woodstock (Joni Mitchell), Indiana and Carolina (James Taylor), Clarksville (Monkees), Alberta (Gordon Lightfoot), ‘Frisco Bay (Otis Redding), and No particular place (Chuck Berry).

I was told how to get there: Walkin' down that long, lonesome road  (Peter, Paul, and Mary), Kickin’ down the cobble stones (Simon and Garfunkel), Like a rollin’ stone (Bob Dylan), Hitchin’ a ride (Vanity Fair). And I was to take a Country road (James Taylor), To the country (Canned Heat), on a Long and winding road (Beatles).

I was told which mode of transportation: Magic carpet (Steppenwolf), Greyhound (Simon and Garfunkel), Diesel ( Janis Joplin), River (Creedence Clearwater Revival), Airplane (Boxtops), Boxcar (Roger Miller), Magic bus (Who), Beautiful balloon (5th Dimension), Motorcycle (Arlo Guthrie), Truckin’ (Grateful Dead), Wooden Ships (Crosby, Stills, and Nash), and a Yellow taxi (Joni Mitchell), a Yellow submarine (Beatles), on a Yellow River (Tony Christie).  No transportation? No problem! We can fly! (Cowsills).

And I was told I'd be gone awhile: Maybe I’ll be back someday (Sonny and Cher), I’m a long way from home (Peter, Paul, and Mary), because I've gone to look for America (Simon and Garfunkel).

After spending years marinating my brain in these songs how could I not throw cooked brown rice and dry granola into a back pack and hit the road when Simon and Garfunkel told me to hitchhike 100 miles?


Good thing pop songs of the day didn't encourage eating Mt. Ranier or building bridges out of toothpicks.

(Musings on my past for a memoir-in-progress)

A Little Known Cultural Factoid From the '70s

After high school I spent several years hitch hiking up and down the west coast with buddies. Our lofty ambitions during this period of youthful folly were to spit in the Grand Canyon, sleep in the Painted Desert, and pan handle in Height Ashbury. We meandered through WA, OR, CA, AZ, NM, NV, and UT and spent hundreds of hours idling about freeway on-ramps with our thumbs out. Here comes the cultural factoid: the 6” x 6” posts of freeway on-ramp signs were plastered with the hand scrawled notes of a generation of aimless wanderers, personal notes beyond the ubiquitous “Impeach Nixon.”

“Jade, meet me in SF on the 14th. Sunseed.” “Flakey Foont, I missed you in Phoenix. Find me in Flagstaff next month. Mr. Natural.” “Amethyst, we waited 3 days and you never showed. Found Moose. Head to Elko. Look us up. Amanita.”

The freeway sign posts, eight to ten feet tall for maximum visibility, were literally covered with micro blogs on all four sides, from top to bottom, on every on-ramp from Salem to San Diego: Oakland, Bakersfield, Sepulveda, Yuma, Chico, Union Gap, San Jose, and more.

“Chrystal, busted in Redding, hung up in Sacramento, Oceanside soon. Opal.” “Marjoram, where’s that twenty bucks I loaned you? Chanterelle.” “Has anyone seen that chic Rainbow from Pismo Beach? Was supposed to be here last Thursday. Tell her Mossyfern missed her.”

Clearly, the odds of these messages actually reaching their intended audiences were slim. The pattern of pick up and drop off was random, subject to the whim of Good Samaritan motorists. But the sign posts did make for interesting reading while stranded for hours. The human need for connection always finds a way.

“Crazy Horse at Fillmore next month. Pickles, meet me there.” “Greenflower, where the heck are you?” “Great soup kitchen on Elmwood in Berkeley but don’t eat the tuna.”

Just think how efficient the nomadic 70s might have been had we had Twitter.