I have learned much hitchhiking in my youth, but the best memories & learnings about fear, love, life and death have come from facing the unexpected alone far away from the comforts of home.
In Turkey, far from the travails of Midnight Express, my experience lasted over one day hitchhiking through the extraordinary, ancient and mysterious beauty of Cappadocia. There were very few, but the most intrepid or stupid, travellers like myself, as it was a time of political instability and strife that preceded a deadly military coup détat.
Like a moth drawn to a candle’s light, such off-the-beaten path travelling added a certain richness to the experiences I had, but carried risks that I just chose to ignore and not think about.
The theme of the day was set visiting the underground city of Derinkyu. Think about what would motivate anyone to carve deep out of solid rock a city, linked by kilometres-long tunnels to other similar cities, which could be sealed off from the world by large wheel-like stone slabs to accommodate tens of thousands of people? I did and it was FEAR and SURVIVAL!
I grew up to the drumbeat of nuclear war in New York City where a fallout shelter was a sign placed above an existing cellar, subway station or the like, but this was totally different. They may have been used by Christians to shelter from persecution as locals said, but were built over time with organised engineering and thought. My imagination ran wild and the fear which drove the people to build such a place insidiously touched me.
Afterwards, I hitchhiked back towards Kayseri and got a ride not far from a small town. Then I was stuck, there was just no traffic. Waiting, I don’t know how long, a car finally approached. One of those huge four-door American gas-guzzlers, it stopped. It had four burly guys inside and they politely ushered me into the back seat between two of the guys. Despite my pseudo-tough, nothing phases me NYC persona, I felt discomfort as we drove off. And despite my 6 foot 2 inch frame, I felt quite small in the back. My heartbeat had picked up and I knew I was destined to go wherever they chose to take me.
That moment resonated with another in my old neighbourhood in New York City. Walking down a back street near a large public housing complex, I saw a young, but old friend sitting in the back seat of a similar large car. A smart, black kid who had proudly made it out of that depressed community on scholarship to a prestigious law school. He was just visiting. I didn’t know the people he was with, but there was an air of darkness hanging over that seat & he looked trapped in some way. A few months later he was dead & the police never really investigated to find out why.
Anyway, at that moment in that big car I was afraid, but focussed. Fear inescapably crystalised in me when the guy to my left laughingly took out a large-calibre automatic handgun and passed it before my nose to the other guy beside me. For awhile the four of them passed it around never once stopping their laughter which I did not share.
Finally, they turned off the road onto a dirt track, stopped and turned the engine off. The guy to my right rolled his window down and the guy to my left took the gun. Holding it just inches from my nose, he took a few shots at a sign outside the window while still laughing.
There wasn’t much time to think as I was deafened by the noise. But, I knew that my life was in their hands. No one knew where I was, nor would they if they ever wondered. I was a very independent traveller. A loner for the most part whose parents only knew I was in Europe somewhere. Mom had said to me once that she always knew I could look after myself, but I didn’t feel it then.
Strangely, at that moment a calmness descended over me as I asked Jesus to be with me. Now I am not very religious. I had been able to stop using drugs calling on his name, but had not felt very welcome in some Christian groups because of my liberal, the-Bible-is-not-perfect views. This was something very personal to me and whenever I’ve called on his name I’ve felt a calming presence and a quiet urging at times.
I sat and waited, I imagined even death would be another, final experience. As best I could I was prepared.
Well, with the car facing a track that went nowhere, the driver went to start the engine. And, with a roar it turned over. Suddenly and unexpectedly a piston blew with a roar and threw the hood right off the car.
I was forgotten and all four of the guys were standing around the engine jabbering away and flapping their arms. I stayed quietly in the back seat, waiting.
One of the men walked back and apologised to me that they could take me no further. A short time later, they flagged down another vehicle with four men like theirs and was driven a short distance into town like nothing had happened. I suspect they were local right-wing militia patrolling the roads.
The calmness remained. In town I bought some nicely woven colourful wool socks and decided to leave, but could not get a ride as not a single car drove past. So I walked for hours out of town along a winding mountainous road with a beautiful cloudless star-studded sky above.
After the day’s experience I felt stripped bare. My mind was barely working. The fear was gone, but other than acceptance, not even gratitude remained, but I knew I was not alone. It was a certainty that has carried with me throughout my life until now.
At around midnight, a truck approached and arms spread wide I begged for a ride. He stopped. It was a petrol tanker reeking of fumes. And the driver, you guessed it, was smoking a cigarette!
It was then I felt a deep sense of gratitude, love and presence which allowed me to laugh as I boarded and left my Valley of the Shadow of Death behind.
Image by Balough from Pixabay
