After being dropped at the A34 junction with Newbury, it soon became obvious I'd found the quietest northbound junction of the whole trunk road. My sign for Bicester wasn't doing it for me so, after twenty minutes in the blazing sun, I sat by the side of the road and crafted a new sign for the M4 junction a few miles up the road, which I knew would be considerably busier and give me a much better chance of a ride.
Ten minutes after hanging out the new sign and munching a rubbish sausage roll, I got picked up by a young guy in a hatchback. I asked where he was heading and he said he was bored and was just out for a drive. He'd only passed his test three weeks previously and still had that nomadic enthusiasm one gets when realising the freedom a set of wheels brings.
He was a nice lad, not least because he dropped me on the right side of Bicester for my continuing journey, which was high above and miles beyond what I expected. I was ten miles from home now, all the busy traffic heading in my direction. It was a matter of minutes before a couple of guys in a white van scooped me up and dropped me ten minutes walk from my house. A mostly smooth journey all round, with just one wait longer than ten minutes, an average wait of about six minutes, and an average journey speed of almost 26mph!
On returning home, I cooked a big cheese and bacon fritartare and drank ginger beer while watching the Grand Prix.
All in all, I had a brilliant weekend, with good hitch-hiking, great company, odd randoms and relaxation - a superb combination which makes for a very happy me.
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