Nov. 22, 2012 – Nashville, Tenn. to Memphis, Tenn.

Standing alone at the deserted on-ramp on Thanksgiving afternoon, I must have looked like the loneliest guy in America.

My chances of reaching Memphis kept waning with every inch the sun dropped in the sky. It wasn’t what I had been envisioning at all.

After a nice parting breakfast of bacon and eggs from Chrissy, I caught a ride with the Locke brothers to the downtown Nashville Travel Authority, naively confident I’d find a friendly trucker on Thanksgiving. Three hours and a couple pieces of free chicken later, I decided to abandon the place.

It had still been an interesting morning. I spent most of my time with James, who was hitching from Mariana, Fla. Back to Indiana for his mom’s surgery, and he taught me a thing or two about patience.

But I wanted to be in Memphis by evening, so I had to go. I walked downtown and grabbed a bus west to the city limits, where I knew i-40 was close.

To my dismay, the bus left goddamn nowhere. The gas station clerk gave me a look of pity and told me to be careful as I bought some trail mix. She was right – the on-ramp was empty.

Luckily, Pam and Jeannie were swayed by my ‘home for turkey’ sign, and shooed me into the back of their pickup trip –they weren’t heading down i-40, but could take my west to Dickson, where they’d show me a more busy on-ramp. Moments later, Thanksgiving leftovers were coming through the back window. What kind ladies!

I was feeling fine as we sped through the Tennessee backroads. The state had taken on a different look since leaving the city – pickup trucks, run-down houses, and confederate flags dotted to landscape.

The two kind old ladies dumped me at a truck stop in Dickson, and urged me to be careful before driving away.

After trolling the Pilot truck stop and the on-ramp until darkness, I started keeping an eye out for a tent site – but figured I’d take one last carousel back at the truck stop.

It worked! The first trucker I asked sized me up, hesitated, then waved me onboard. Next stop, Memphis!

I learned more and more about Sean with each passing minute in the truck. A 47-year-old from Hollywood, he had dropped out of high school to join the army, only to get the boot for weed. He finished high school in Pennsylvania, then returned West.

He was certainly entertaining, filling me in on his medical marijuana prescription, about how he came out four years ago in Tijuana and was now living it up, and how he was five months sober from a crystal meth addiction. He was a damn nice guy – I took down his number and promised to text him when I got west.

A great energy exists between hitchhiker and driver – both parties are excited about the new experience, and willing to enjoy it. Conversation flows smoothly, and bonds are easily made.

Sean pulled over and dumped me at Exit 1, right in downtown Memphis – I felt great as as I marched off the highway to find Matt’s place. What a satisfying way to travel.