Don’t take LEIF so seriously…

Here’s an old hitchhiking story I thought of the other day when Rachel, Steph and I did a charity hitchhike from England to Morocco…

As the three of us climb into a truck cab designed for no more than two, the two girls settle a little cramped on the bed area behind the seats and I take my spot in the passenger seat. “Thanks for picking us up! What’s your name?” I ask cheerily, obviously relieved to be on the road again. “My name is LIFE.”  And it was then that I knew my life was over.

Hey, Life!

The suspicion begins.

Freaky?  Freaky.

That’s probably how we’re going to end up.

Hitchhiking through Northern Spain with a serial killer who dubbed himself with exactly what he so enjoyed taking away from his victims. How suiting. I quickly check my surroundings for exits and weapons, taking into account the girls and our valuables. Two minutes pass…three. Nothing yet, and the conversation seems rather pleasant. Maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all.

A few hours into our ride, we stop at a scenic viewpoint overlooking the Spanish Pyrenees.

Purdy.

As one girl gets out of the cab to head down to the viewpoint and take some pictures, I step out for a view and to stretch my legs – forgetting for a moment the cardinal rule of hitchhiking with girls.  SHIT! Did I just leave Rach in the cab ALONE with Leif and all our valuables?!

There’s me, with no regard for Rach’s life!

No no, go further!  It’s not a problem!  We have all the time in the world, go get some more pictures!  Don’t worry about Rach and the serial killer in the truck behind me!

Eventually I scramble back into the cab…but all is still as it should be. Turns out it’s spelled Leif, and he’s not a serial killer, just Danish. Huh. Who’d a thought?

All good!  We can go back to sightseeing…nice scenery, anyway!

He even let me (pretend) to drive!  Actually I grabbed the key and jumped in at a bathroom break…tee hee.

 Although Leif was our most successful hitch yet, taking us over 1,000 kilometres in a diagonal slash right across Spain, he unfortunately could not take us much off of his freight path when dropping us off or his boss would know he went off-course.  Still trying to do us a favour, he dropped us at this overpass…in the middle of NOWHERE!

wdf we do now?

The goat skeleton pictured earlier is actually right behind us in the ditch in this picture.

Want to find out how we got ourselves out of this pickle?  The answer lies with a padre and a dozen donuts.  I’ll leave you to think about that one.

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