The Hitcher

We woke up in the car on Whale head beach right on the Oregon side of the border. Spent all morning fucking around, taking photos, and playing hackysack. We went and tried to skate the park there, but we were all soggy and bummed from the five previous days of not showering and sleeping on the ground. So we headed to San Fran, down the 101. We stunk like shit. Everyone was running low on cash, and my compadres, Ron and Pearl, were looking for some weed. Due to the lack of funds they wanted quanity instead of quality, but no one in Oregon or Cali seems to understand that. "Wait, you want swag? You can't get that shit here." was the answer the locals at every stop had for us. Bummer for sure.
We stopped in this really rad state park in the middle of the red wood to bathe in the swimming hole. The water was freezing and we seemed to be bumming out the tourists and campers with the shampoo suds, but at least we were getting clean.
We get back on the road, clean and happy. After about two or three minutes of driving, we pass a hitchhiker. He was a white rastafarian wearing potato sack pants and holding a guitar case. I slam on the brakes and pull to the side of the road. Ron didn't seem to mind, but Pearl was way bummed. I help the guy load his gear into the back and we head out.
To sum our hitchhiker up, he sucked. You'd think that a rasta would be alot cooler, but he really sucked. He kept rambling on about all sorts of bullshit. Stuff like "I know one of Jerry Garcia's wives phone numbers, I mean, I don't call her or anything, but I know her number." and when Ron asks him about finding some cheap pot, hoping that he'd have some and kick it down, this fool says "Well, I know this guy, and about eight months ago he hid ten pounds of weed, and its off this road, and I know where it is, so we can stop and uh..... we can take some!" On top of all of this, he kept telling me how to drive, and he was really pushy about it. But thats not even the worst of it. This guy, "Ramone", has to be in San Fran by ten O'clock. He actually planned on hiking 210 miles in five hours.
We drive about seventy mile, and then stop to skate at some concrete park in this really small town. The park was rad! The entire time we skated, Ramone sat and played the guitar, singing songs about the kids from Arkansas who came and took hime to SF by ten o'clock and saved his day. This guy was fucking nuts! Pearl Hated my guts for even picking hime up, he wouldn't even talk to me. Ron still didn't care, because he didn't have to sit with him, or talk to him.We skated about thirty minutes, then got back on the road. But before we could even get out of town, Ramone starts talking about how that ten pounds of weed is supose to be right around where we were. He has me pull into some pizza place so that he can ask where some closed down business is. then gets back in the car and tells me to pull down some alley way, then park in front of some building where he thinks it might be stashed by. I ask him if he wants to use my phone to call his friend who originally hid the weed here, so that he can tell us where it his. Thats when Ramone gave us the whole story.
He didn't even know the guy! It was some random fool that he saw at a music festival and asked if he knew where to getting some shake to make gonja food with. This guy tells him, "it sounds like a longshot, but I was driving through Wilits about eight months ago, and I remembered that I had ten pound in my trunk, So I hid it behind this old building on the old side of town. I told a few friends about it, so its probably not there, but it might be! if you can find it then its yours." Are you fucking kidding me? We're chasing a tall tale? Now we were all bummed.
So Ramone gets out and heads behind the building, Ron, Pearl and I were in the car talking about what bullshit it was and debating whether we should drive off with his guitar and bag. But we dicided that we should at least take him to SF. I got out of the car to help him on this treasure hunt, Ron and Pearl stayed in. I walk back behind the building only to see Ramone running around all wild eyed, looking in trash cans and under planters, trying to find this legendary bag. So I start looking. About fifty feet away the was an air conditioning company that was out of business, so I head in that direction. There was a fenced off area where the dumpsters had been, but now if was just over grown with brush and other shit. I look behind it and find an old bike frame leaning on a trash bag. I call Ramone over to check it out. He opened the bag and there was another trash bag inside of it, I ripped a small hole in it, and out pops some greenery! We actually found ten pounds of weed! We grab the bag and run to the car! Ron and Pearl both shit their pants! Suddenly Ramone and Pearl are best friends! Everybody is happy, and we haul ass to San Fransico!
We get to SF about 9:30 that night. Ramone payed the six dollar toll on the bridge, gave me ten for gas, gave Ron and Pearl a pound of pot, and hooked me up with a quarter of mushrooms. Then he took us to the worst part of town, and took us out for burritos. We dropped Ramone off at a show, and parted ways. Everyone was happy! Everything worked out! We couldn't believe it.
Ramone actually called me a few weeks ago to see if we made it home ok and to make sure everyone was doing good. I guess he didn't suck that bad after all.