I met Matthias, a solo German traveler, in a youth hostel in Melbourne, Australia. He had the bunk underneath me, didn‘t speak much English, but we bonded over our mutual dislike for our other roommate. Esmand was a boring Englishman who pontificated about infrastructure and Botanical Gardens.
It was mid-January, middle of Summer down under, and our hostel room was like a sauna. There was no air-conditioning, and if we opened the window for some fresh air the street noise was so loud we couldn’t sleep. Matthias and I decided to leave the hostel the next morning.
We took the bus to Canberra and after a few days in Capitol City we decided to hitchhike to Sydney. I had never hitchhiked before, but I was nervously excited about the new experience. We walked about a mile to the highway that led to Sydney, and found a good place to stand in the shade of eucalyptus trees. Matthias was dressed in blue dolphin shorts and a white tank top and could have easily been mistaken for a male prostitute. We took turns standing on the side of the road holding our sign that read “SYD”.
We passed the time talking. I taught him some American slang, and he told me some lost in translation story about his dead pet bird named, “Jakob.” We only waited about fifteen minutes until a small blue hatchback pulled-up and offered us a ride. I quickly gauge the safety of the ride, figured that all life is a risk, said a quick prayer, and hopped in.
I sat shotgun and Matthias jumped in backseat with his luggage and my Vanilla Ice backpack. Our driver was Ray, a 43 year-old Ex-pat American, now living in Boydstown and on his way to Newcastle. His temperamental car stalled when he pulled over to pick us up, which was expected, because people with nice cars don’t pick-up hitchhikers.
The trip from Canberra to Sydney was approximately 250 kilometers. Since Matthias’ English was limited, Ray & I did most of the talking. Ray was born in Washington D.C., got married at 17, had a kid, and moved to Australia in 1970. Now he had a “lady” and two kids. We talked about sports, politics, Australian culture, our travel experiences, home brewing, and some of the jobs he’d had over the years including carpenter, farmer, and musician.
He dropped us off at a train station on the outskirts of Sydney where we could catch a commuter train into the city. I offered to buy Ray lunch for the ride and he accepted. We ate at a pub where we tipped a few schooners of Victoria Bitters with our Paradise Burgers, which is a regular hamburger that also has a fried egg and a slice of pineapple on it. We thanked Ray, exchanged addresses, and watched him drive off. I was so thankful that my first and only hitchhiking experience didn‘t end up as a headline in The Sydney Morning Herald, stating “Bones Identified as American Hitchhiker.”