A young woman with a dog, stopped and picked me up. We drove and talked, stopped for coffee and burgers and totally enjoyed our road trip, together.
But the weather turned gray and cold, so the woman bought me a room at a motel in Malad City, Idaho. The next day, the storm socked the whole town in and the couple at the motel decided to keep me there for two more days...for free.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the woman of the couple drove me back down south (we decided that going north was out of the question due to the weather) and left me on a ramp just south of Tremonton, Utah.
I finally made it to Morgan, Utah which is near the city of Ogden. I trudged up a long ramp and sat down on a guard rail. It was breezy and cool but the sun was shining. I figured that I would get a ride out of there, eventually.
And then a State trooper, with the physique of Barney Fife and the voice of a Munchkin, stopped his car and got out.
"You can't hitchhike here" he squawked, folding his bony arms for emphasis.
I almost burst out laughing.
"Well, then, where do you expect me to hitchhike?" I asked him and smirked at his body language. He was like a six-year-old kid, walking around in big shoes...a Richard Simmons clone with a service belt.
He started to rant and I pulled his strings, just to watch him mentally dance to my music.
He was a pint-sized, pompous idiot.
And there we argued, while the big trucks rolled slowly by and I could see the drivers checking it out.
In the end, the cop drove me all the way back down the ramp (which seemed to run about a mile-and-a-half in length) and left me there. I decided that the cop should watch out for stray dogs.