The Hitch
Wednesday involved a very long hitch back home;
We sort of forgot that because it was 'interseason' there'd be noone heading our way with space in their car. So there we stood, with our scrappy little cardboard sign, smiles never leaving our faces as each vehicle approached, in hope of a way back. Eventually we got a ride, but only to Sallanches. And from there, we got picked up in a friendly people carrier with another hitcher, who reminded me of a mad Frenchman who'd been lost at sea for too long. They dropped us off at Servoz, which was pretty close - but not enough. The light was fading and the cold rain was creeping in. We looked up to the peaks and agreed that it was definitely snowing all the way up there, it was good to be back in the mountains.. All of a sudden, our journey back home felt like a real adventure. We were having no joy getting a ride on this here real busy road, plus now we had the crazy Frenchman to contend with. We weren't getting anywhere, so thought we'd troop on up the road edging closer to our neighbourhood. Said some underwhelming
goodbyes+goodlucks to our fellow hitcher and started our soggy trek up the scary road.. Not long after, a car roared past us and drew up into the lay-by pretty aggressively - until we saw one of those undercover copper lights get launched up onto the car roof and a disconcerting siren holler it's horn we didn't know what was going on. For the next ten minutes we didn't know whether we were getting arrested, or getting a ride. We played dumb, I was impressed with our acting. Next thing we knew, we were getting the comfy-est hitch of the day, with the rain now pouring on out there and within the cozy confines of that lovely warm copper wagon I was firing the usual hounding of Smith questions at these two young and very attractive Chamonix rozzers. What d'ya know - they took us all the way home, almost to our door.
It was hard to leave the heat and swell of the sun drenched Barcelona, and to say goodbye to our ace mates. But it was real cozy being back in Cheeques. We'd just have to wait until heads-down'O'Clock to see if them little grey fuzzy things were still favouring our scrappy wagon as a residence of choice..
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