How I met Jack

Yesterday I was driving home from the park with the kids when I saw a guy hitch hiking on County Road 30 just north of Stacy. I try to make a point of picking up hitch hikers whenever I have room in my car and I’m not already late for something important. Since I rarely have appointments that are that important anymore, it now only matters if I don’t already have a passenger. Anyway, that’s how I met Jack. He stands at about 5 foot 7 and couldn’t weigh more than 130 pounds soaking wet. He carries a big black back pack which he said is about 80 pounds and I don’t doubt it considering it’s size. It wouldn’t fit in my trunk because I had the double stroller in there, but he managed to squeeze into the front seat with the pack on his lap, and off we went.

I was figuring on just driving up to North Branch since he said he wanted to hook up with 65 and take that up to Hibbing (North Branch is where he could catch 95 to get him to 65) It was a smidgen out of my way but I didn’t have anything particular to do that afternoon, so I figured going home the long way wouldn’t kill us. On our way up to North Branch, I learned a few things about Jack. He’s from Kentucky, has been on the road since 1972, and alternately refers to himself as a professional hobo and a hillbilly. He usually travels around until he finds some work, then he’ll stop and camp and work for a while and then move on. He comes north in the winter because it’s easier to camp in snow than rain. At the time I picked him up he was out of money and hadn’t eaten for a day or 2. This is where my initial plan started to change. First we stopped at a grocery store and picked up a few things that would pack well and not spoil before they were eaten. Then I invited him home to use our shower and laundry and to camp in our yard if he wasn’t in too big a hurry to get to Hibbing. He accepted and we drove home.

Over a sandwich he told me more of his story. He was born in Kentucky in the late fifties but his parents soon moved to “Cinci-Nasty” and then put him in a children’s home because they were unable to care for him. He ran away from the children’s home at around 15, I think, and has been traveling ever since. He has some folks he calls his foster parents still in “Cinci-nasty” whom he stays in contact with. He buys most of his gear at a place in Iowa City called Active Endeavors and they keep a box there for him to store some of his stuff in when he doesn't need it for a bit.

He had story after story about being on the road. One about being hit by a semi truck in the 80’s or 90’s (I forget which) when the only thing that saved his life was his Dana backpack because the truck hit him there and cushioned the blow a bit. Still, he had a ruptured spleen and I forget what else for injuries, but he came through it alright. He’s been robbed a few times when people would pick him up or pretend to and then take off once he’d thrown his pack in their truck. “People have gotten weird,” he says. It sounds like it’s harder to hitch hike these days than it used to be. People make all kinds of assumptions about hitch hikers in general and then change their mind about Jack after they see what nice gear he has. Everything he had was top of the line outdoor gear. I think he spends all his money on gear and would rather go hungry than skimp on quality. As I expected he and Bob had a fine time yuckin’ it up about gear all evening. He wears everything out in about 2 years and what he can’t get replaced under warranty, he gives away to “homeless people”. He apparently doesn’t consider himself to be homeless.

After we had dinner and had put the kids to bed, Jack and Bob and I sat down to watch a movie – “The Outlaw Josey Wales” was Jack’s choice, which is one of Bob’s favorites and one of the few westerns I actually like. Jack didn’t actually camp in our yard but rather put his sleeping bag out on the couch. It seemed much better than having to take the time to set up his bivey outside for no good reason. This morning after breakfast, I dropped Nathaniel off at preschool and drove jack to just north of Cambridge to get him back on his original planned route. I had to drop him of by 10:15 or so in order to get back to pick Nathaniel up from preschool again.

All told, we only knew Jack for about 19 hours. Not much time considering he’s been doing this for the last 34 years. Not nearly enough time to really get to know a person. But I know some of his story now, and it’s made my life richer for it.

I hope he’ll be back someday.