Way back in the last century, I hitch-hiked about 14,000 miles, exploring much of the United States. It was the late 70's, right after I finished college, and the trip was a graduation present to myself. What else could I do with the $100 I discovered like buried treasures within my graduation cards? I spent most of the wad on a backpack, a sleeping bag, a small camp stove, and an orange pup-tent. I still had a little reserve for Dinty Moore Stew and Pop Tarts which held me over 'til I got the first of a half-dozen short-term jobs. Hitch-hiking is, by definition, all about the unpredictable and chance meetings. Out of hundreds of encounters, I'd say most were positive, but a handful were downright unpleasant. My orange tent and nightly covert operations (to find a free place to sleep) added disproportionately to the latter group.
Having explored about 35 states, I was headed north to Montana where I was hoping to land an outdoor job with a warm dry place to sleep at nights. Yellowstone was my last hurrah before hanging up my backpack. I got a ride through the southern entrance of the park and the quirky grey-haired driver said he could take me all the way to "Big Sky" country. My memories are fuzzy regarding the driver but the car was another story. It was old and what my mother would have called a "death trap." I increasingly felt its grip. As we were driving through the tight mountainous turns with beautiful vistas, the worry-free driver periodically had to pump the brakes repeatedly before they would catch. Other times they'd catch the first time and we'd lunge forward or skid. He assured me that all was well - "probably just a bad slave cylinder." Hours into the ride I thought repeatedly - this is how I'm going to die. And then I saw the sign - "Old Faithful - 5 miles." I immediately blurted out - "Oh, I've always wanted to see Old Faithful," and the guy seemed ok with the detour. After a long five miles, he pulled into the Old Faithful Inn parking lot and said "go check it out" but added " I can't wait forever." I reassured him I was in no hurry and wanted to take it all in. I thanked him for the ride and watched him sputter away.
(My room was at the top of the stairs to the left)
At this point in my life I didn't have a five-year plan. I knew I didn't like anchors and was intrigued by the "Help Wanted" sign as I walked through the enormous old log structure. It was late Friday afternoon as I made my way to the staff employment office. I had just started reading the sizable list of postings on the door when it opened and a young brunette with a great smile asked - "can I help you?" I told her I was checking out what kind of openings she had and then she asked "what kind of work are you looking for?" I told her my father had a motel in Aspen and I'd done all kinds of work there on school breaks over the past two years. She just lit up responding - "which motel- I'm from Aspen?" Well we went on to have a lively conversation about our favorite town and our adventures there. And then she conceded - "I'm not sure you'd like any of those jobs but I just got an opening for a bartender-trainee in this inn." She went on to describe the position and the perks including having my own room adjoining the top portion of the 84 foot high lobby. And I could eat in the "staffeteria" where the offerings were actual prepared meals - three per day! I was sold and started training the following Monday.... I ended up loving the job and the hiking was spectacular. The park was where I reconnected with nature and I stayed through the end of the season. In October my backpack and I were back on the road again.
I don't remember the name of the guy with the bad brakes and I don't recall the name of the kindred spirit who took the extra half hour to sign me up for a great job. I DO however remember that when I hitch-hiked out of the park - I did not head north.
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