Waiting Beside the Road

A kid standing beside Waikoloa Road with his thumb out. I hit the brakes and swing onto the shoulder a couple hundred feet past him as he runs to catch up. I clear out my junk from the passenger seat as we exchange pleasantries and start down the six miles to Waikoloa. I ask him how long he had been waiting, and the answer surprised me, an hour and a half!

A clean cut kid, lightly built, maybe 15 or 17, dressed in a clean T-Shirt with a backpack. Why did he have to wait so long for a ride? There is only one obvious reason, he was black.

To be sure, I also make that same decision when I see someone standing on the side of the road, do I want to pick up this person? Do they look respectable? Clean? Picking up a hitchhiker is a judgment, you are allowing someone you do not know into your space. This decision may be different for me, I am a large guy, few people intimidate me physically. I am male. Maybe my comfort zone is wider when letting someone into my vehicle.

But an hour and a half? How many cars passed this young man up on a busy afternoon? Not exactly the aloha spirit.

Most of the people I have given rides are just kids, trying to get to work, or get home. A cashier for the supermarket I shop at, a young gal working in a shaved ice shop, a lady who turned out to live on my street who's car was out of action. I will still make that judgment, but I suspect I will often hit the brakes.