Hitchhiking

Automobiles were relatively uncommon for Aggies back in our day and that was especially true for underclassman. I was able to buy a car before our pisshead year but my fish was a year of improvisation.

San Antonio is only two and half to three hours away by car so it was no big deal to go home for the weekend - if only I could find a ride. Oftentimes, I resorted to hitchhiking. Today, such a thing is almost unthinkable but it was quite common and safe back in our days at A&M.

In fact, there was a special badg we used to purchase at the MSC (Memorial Student Center) book store that was almost a requirement for hitchhiking around the state. It was relatively small but it held what you needed to pack for a quick weekend trip home. And, it was maroon and white, of course, with the A&M logo prominent on both sides. Holding it our in front of you when hitch hiking was more effective than the old thumb display that most people associate with hitch hiking.

For decades, A&M had attracted poor farm boys who could not afford public transportation back and forth to school so Aggies hitch hiking was a common sight. I believe many people, especially farm families, considered it a public duty to pick up Aggie hitchhikers.

I had several interesting experiences while hitch hiking.

The most memorable was the time I was picked up in San Antonio by a meat packing plant rendering truck. It was hauling bones and other meat packing by-products to a glue factory somewhere to the north. The stench was unbelievable - I seem to remember that I could smell the truck before I saw it. The driver and his assistant were perfect complements because I doubt that either had bathed in weeks - it was probably their way of using their body odor to overpower the stench of the rtotting flesh behind them.

Well, the truck was something else. It had been in use for years and was poorly maintained. The only place for me to sit was on top of the engine cover. This was a tractor trailer rig with the engine sitting between the driver's and passenger's seats. The engine cover was all that separated passengers from the big diesel unit. It was hot, vibrated like crazy - and I was sitting on top of it.

I was really glad when they dropped me off in Austin for the next leg of my trip.

The second memorable trip was a time that I made it to Austin and was picked up by a woman traveling down to San Antonio. A few minutes later she stopped to pick up another man.

A few minutes into the trip it came out that he hitch hiked a lot. A few minutes later the conversation turned to safety and hitch hiking. That's when he told us that he carried a pistol in his back ... just in case.

That's when the hair on the back of my head started to tingle (it was already standing straight up because it was so short). Hitch hiking was still considered fairly safe back them but there were reports of violence by hitch hikers. It was particularly unnerving to me that the driver and I were in the front and a man with the gun sat directly behind us.

It was a long hour's drive to San Antonio and I was glad when it came to an end. However, I was really concerned about leaving the woman driver with a man and his gun. I made a big deal about getting her name, address, and license palate number. This was the only way I could think of to provide some sense of protection for the woman . Just in case.

Finally, there was the time JT Foote and I hitchhiked together to get a chainsaw. It must have been our fish year and it was just before bonfire. A call went out for everyone who had chainsaws and axes at home to bring them to school for use in felling trees and building the bonfire.

For some reason or other we went to my home in San Antonio first on Friday afternoon. Then on Sunday morning we decided to hitch hike to his home in Gatesville (20 - 30 miles west of Temple/Belton) get his father's chainsaw and then head to Bryan-College Station. And we did. The trip was apparently unremarkable because no specific details stand out in my memory. I do remember, however, how quickly we got to our destinations. We seemed to catch a ride almost immediately every time we needed one.

I also remember how ridiculous we must have looked lugging that chainsaw with us from his home back to school. It didn't have one of those nice carrying cases, it was just a plain ugly chainsaw dripping oil and sawdust. Apparently that didn't bother those giving us a ride.

I know others (Twitch) had at least one good hitchhiking story - why not send it to me. Twitch, you've got to write up your thumb-junket to Mississippi to visit Tina.

Tom (TE) Schoolcraft

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I hitchhiked several times back and forth from A&M to my hometown, Brownwood, when I couldn't get a ride with one of my hometown buds. I always wore my uniform, and carried one of those Aggie bags that Tom described above (I still have it!)

One Friday night I made it about two-thirds of the way home, and got dropped off at a crossroads in Evant, TX. It had looked like rain, so I actually had my piss-pot and rain gear with me. Sure enough, just after dark, it started to rain, so I put on the gear. I couldn't imagine how anyone would ever see me standing there, since it was dark, visibility was low due to the rain, and I was wearing dark clothing. After about an hour, I had all but decided to start walking to the nearest building with a light on to see if I could phone home, when a car stopped, picked me up, and took me all the way to my front door!

Another time I remember hitchhiking back to A&M - I had a girlfriend in Gatesville, which is half-way between Brownwood and College Station, and I asked to be dropped off there on Sunday mid-day. I had lunch with her and her family (I was presentable because I was in uniform), visited for awhile, and then she drove me about 5 miles out of town towards A&M. We figured that someone would take pity on a solitary Ag in the middle of nowhere, that they'd think I had walked all that way, and take enough pity on me to pick me up. I'll never forget the sight of her driving away, with the only living things in sight being buzzards. But it worked!

A hometown bud of mine and fish in Seagram's Seven, Jimmy Sheppard, had a close call while hitchhiking to Brownwood from A&M. The guy who picked him up reeked of beer, and was apparently well under the influence. Jimmy was relieved when the guy let him out at an intersection just East of Temple. Jimmy watched as the guy made a left across traffic, and got T-boned. Jimmy ran over to his former driver's car, helped him get out, noticed he wasn't seriously injured, then thought he'd do the guy a good deed by cleaning out all the beer cans, empty and full, that were in the car - he threw them into the bar ditch so the cops wouldn't have a lot of evidence to use against the driver. Remember, this was before standardized sobriety tests and breathalyzers. Anyway, about a month later, Jimmy was riding home with me, and as we passed the scene of the accident, he made me stop while he scoured the bar ditch for the "evidence." He actually found a full six-pack, and, good Ags that we were, we decided to sample it. Just imagine what cheap beer, in aluminum cans, that has been out in the Texas heat for a month tastes like! We chunked the other five cans!

Anyway, after I got my vehicle at the beginning of our pisshead year (the 1966 4-door Cadillac sedan, white with black vinyl top, and a back seat the size of a double bed), I regularly picked up hitchhikers as I traveled to and from A&M. During our zip year, though, I read a report that said that 80% of all hitchhikers were convicted felons, and stopped picking them up.

John (Yankus) Yantis