The Etiquette of Hitch Hiking

On days four and five we continued along on our way further North, still along the East Coast. We saw some amazing places, the scenery so diverse. New Zealand really has it all – stunning beaches, picture perfect countryside and now we were seeing tropical native rainforest.

Peggie in the forest

We stayed the night in the Puketi Forest, amidst the huge bulk of Kauri trees, before setting off to Cape Reinga, the very tip of the North Island where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean collide and according to Maori beliefs, where souls leap from cliffs as they depart on their journey to their spiritual homeland. 

We weren’t even an hour into the journey before we spotted three angelic, blond haired, blue eyed children (when I say children, I mean teenagers) by the road trying to hitch a ride our way. Their eyes were wide with hope, their thumbs up in a row, their scratty sign made on the inside of a ripped cereal box. They were so young, innocent and vulnerable looking we could hardly pass by and leave them to their inevitable abduction and possibly (more likely) death. So we stopped. I’m not sure what we were planning to do. I think I was probably going to say “Sorry guys, there’s only a bed in the back – no room or seatbelts, but for God’s sake be careful!” but they yelped in joy like little puppies and apparently didn’t mind laying on our bed for a few hours and so we let them in.  What else were we supposed to do? It was either no seatbelts or a deranged murderer for these kids. 

Now I’m no expert when it comes to hitch-hiking custom, having only ever done it once (sorry dad) but I presume you should at least introduce yourself and attempt some small talk, have a bit of a chat, you know? These guys had nothing. I managed to establish there were two girls and one boy but that was more to do with my own power of observation than their communication skills. However, after a while, we managed to draw blood from the stones and discovered they were German students, travelling for a while before going back to college and… well, that was about that. 

Needless to say the journey was a long one. Three hours of awkward silence (Peggie has no stereo by the way – another of her “quirks”) and inner turmoil as I imagined just how much the parents of these children would hate me if there were to be an accident and they were informed I’d let their pride and joy into our van without providing them with a seatbelt. I was very aware of the fact their young lives were in my hands. But wait, said my over-active imagination, what if you have this wrong? What if, in fact, your lives are in their hands? Were these kids so quiet and socially inept because actually they were mentally disturbed? Was the plan for one of them to sneak up behind me and hold a blade to my throat in order to hijack the vehicle, steal our things and leave us for dead? You know how they always use pretty teenagers in horror movies – I’ve seen Scream!

Three.Whole.Hours of this mental torture passed by painfully and slowly. The road was endless. 

It was a relief when we eventually arrived at Cape Reinga and slid open Peggie’s doors to release the little lambs. Off they went, without a backward glance, trotting off toward the sea all giggles and arm-linking. 

A thanks would have been nice and maybe an offer of a bit of cash toward petrol – but what do I know about the etiquette of hitch hiking?

 Recovered from the trauma in Cape Reinga