Hitch-hiking in the 70s
Nugget06
Was hitch-hiking dangerous?
In 1970's hitchhiking was considered slightly risky but an acceptable way of getting around. The only problem was that I had to get from my university in Durban, South Africa to home in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe which is 1500 kilometers away. So it was a solid two days journey (or possibly more depending on your luck).
I had R20 per month pocket money and we were not allowed to stay in student residence during the vacations so my choices were very limited. So for 4 years 4 times a year I would trust in the universe to look after me and put my thumb out on the road.
There was an unspoken etiquette amongst hitchhikers that we would give each other a lot of room. There were sometimes quite a few hitchhikers, including guys doing military service who tended to get preference. I had shoulder-long hair and was automatically considered to be potentially dangerous. Outside Pretoria - the bastion of conservatism I received plenty of haircut signs, where the man would hang out his driver window and make a vigorous scissors sign and possibly a loud "Sny jou hare!" ("Cut your hair") possibly followed by "Jou Bliksem!")
Generally, though, most people were kind and I usually made it back home within two days. I had a sleeping bag and would often sleep in a garage toilet. I have the ability to sleep anywhere. Once I found myself at the outskirts of PaulPietersburg, a small town on the border of Natal and Transvaal late at night. In those days there was fuel restrictions at night and there was no traffic. there was a cold wind blowing, whistling through pine trees and I felt very alone and dejected. So I decided to find a police station so that I coud sleep in a cell. I trudged in to the town and found the police station. I was told gruffly that all the cells were full. But the policeman took pity of me and gestured to the charge office desk and said I could sleep there. I was so grateful I sank into a deep sleep and was only subliminally aware of noise and heavy boots. Another time I fell asleep on a bench outside a hotel in Louis Trichardt. I was aware that I was being scrutinised at some stage during the night but carried on slumbering.