Mastifay, Mastifay.

It was raining when I started hitchhiking to Grand Island from Millard Saturday afternoon. The rain wasn't so heavy that it was unbearable, but it still soaked my hoodie causing a slight chill in my bones. I was in good spirits. I had been waiting for this day for months now. Being on the west bound on-ramp opened a flood of Hitchhiking memory's. It's safe to say I was excited for my first ride of the season. Waiting on the shoulder gives you plenty of time to think, and the past months have given be plenty to think about. At the moment, I thought mostly about Grand Island, and the girl I was on my way to visit.

Amy had joined a traveling carnival for the summer. She and I had been spending a good amount of energy getting to know one another over the winter and I thought she might appreciate a visit from me.
I didn't feel our goodbye, just days ago, had a sufficient enough impact to carry us through our summers alone. I thought about that, and I wondered if this rain was going to let up as I continued west.

I was preparing myself for a long wait, these hitches out of Omaha are notorious for rides few, and far between. I had some good tracks in my mp3 player to keep me entertained, at least for an hour or two.
I turned on the music, traveling music. I barely finished the first track when an Avalanche creped up off the road. A Gentleman dressed up in full Nebraska apparel offed to take me as far as Lincoln. Naturally I accepted, generally it's not in my nature to decline a ride. If fact, I can't recall a time I had. I climbed in and it seemed in no time we were in Lincoln. My ride dropped me off on the an interstate intersection, 180 & 80. Hitchhiking on the Freeways is illegal in the state of Nebraska, as it is in most states. So I didn't feel too comfortable hanging out on this precarious junction. So I headed up the ramp to the highway with my thumb extended.

I didn't get to the top of the ramp before an elderly man saw me and offered a ride, he wasn't going far, about 5 miles, but I accepted anyway. I got a little concerned when we reached his exit and he continued on by. He told me that he didn't have anything to do that day, other than visit some friend at a retirement village, so he figured he'd help me out by driving all the way to Grand Island.

Round trip for this guy will be about two hundred miles out of his way, to go so far out just didn't seem reasonable to me. So I told the man that his offer, although kind, was unnecessary, as many people traveling on I-80 are surly headed in my direction. He dismissed my concerns as politeness and continued west.

The man, Wes, was hard of hearing and did make for good conversation, which I felt was a shame. After looking around his Toyota I noticed a far about of bike parts. I tried to strike of a conversation about bicycling with him, but having to repeat myself multiple times grew tiresome. So until we got close to Grand Island I simply thought about the rising gas prices and attempted to guesstimate the cost of this particular ride.

Grand Island is North of the interstate. Further North than I expected. Wes didn't seem to mind the drive and added on occasion, “It's a good thing I picked you up!”

Wes Dropped me off on the front door of the carnival. I thanked him for his extra effort and wished him luck on his solo journey home.

Walking through the Carnival, located in a Hastings music store parking lot, I stuck out like a sore thumb (no pun intended) with my over sized backpack. I scoured the various gaming booths in search of Amy. When I found her working behind a row of plastic ducks she didn't notice me. I walked slowly and waited for her to see me. She was, at that moment, helping a child pick out a prize he had just won. When she finally looked up, her face emitted a bright smile and what seemed to be a silent scream. She seemed happy to see me.

Amy's hours were long, working from 10 am to midnight. I tried to avoid being a nuisance so I spent only a few moments at a time at the carnival while she was working. The area we were in was typical American Sprawl, Wal-Mart, hotels, Mall, and chain Restaurants were excellent places to kill time.

By the time Amy's shift was over she was tired, as you would expect, but still pleasant to converses with. Amy isn't one for idle chatter, which is one of the many thing I appreciate about her. It felt nice to be in her presence because I almost always felt we were on similar, if not the same wavelengths.

My two night's in Grand Island passed quickly. I found myself bidding farewell once again on the morning of May first as I packed my bag.