Like Anne Perkins, I used to hitch everywhere as a teenager and in my twenties (Hitchhiking has been left by the roadside, 22 September ). That was in the 1960s. I have often wondered why people appear to hitch no more. Is it because no one is willing these days to give a lift, or is it for some other reason?
A few years ago I decided on an experiment. I would see if I could travel from Wigan to Lindisfarne on my thumb. So I set off on a slip road to the M6. Within two minutes the police arrived to say this was not allowed. So I took the train to Lancaster to try my luck on the lovely A7 border road towards Berwick. I used to think in terms of, on average, getting a lift within twenty minutes. And I was in luck: two young Australian tourists took me a good part of the journey to Hawick. Then by two more short lifts from local people I got within walking distance of my destination. So, it does not seem as if drivers have changed so much.
Maybe if M-way slip roads could be redesigned with a space where it is permitted to thumb and for vehicles to stop and give lifts this would enable a return to this most sociable and humane way of getting about – one that I found to be quite safe.
Roger Gibbard
Wigan
• We hitchhiked around New Zealand for a month in 1978 and experienced incredible kindness from drivers, including food and overnight stays and hardly ever waited very long for lifts. It is sad that this may have changed. On the positive side we have recently hitched in Spain, France and the UK when very tired at the end of long hikes. Having grey hair and being in our 60s means we still get lifts very easily.
Alison Griffies
Bristol
• Most students hitched in the past though it was known to be risky, and slow. Standing by a road near Beziers in July 1968, hitching to Morocco, it was hot and I’d been trying for hours. A big Merc pulled up. Inside were four Spanish monks who, having walked to Rome on pilgrimage, were driving back. They gave me a lift to the monastery of Montserrat near Barcelona where I was given lodging in a small white room, with wine, food and a lift next day to the Malaga road.
Chris Hardy
London
• In the seventies I did my fair share of hitchhiking when it was largely resorted to by youngsters and the odd bloke holding trade plates. A few months ago, en route to Luton airport to catch the last plane to Kraków to attend a funeral, the minicab pulled over, smoke pouring from the engine. Just a few miles up the M1 and desperate, I started walking along the hard shoulder and stuck my thumb out. Within a couple of minutes, a car pulled over and the young man at the wheel said he’d be delighted to take me to the airport. Wonderful and on my 62nd birthday!
Hania Franek
London
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