Edited story

'So, you'd reccommend hitchhiking as a means of travel ?' prompted the interviewer.

'Just try it,' came the reply,'Just go for a little trip. 10 miles down the road to the next town. If you like it go a little further the next time. You'll never want to travel any other way again.'

She switched off the radio, sipped her weak milky tea. The clock ticked. The fridge squealed and sighed. She scratched her chin and looked out the window as the last leaves on the willow waved in the southwesterly breeze. The sun slipped towards the grey horizon.

She remembered herself at 20, hitchhiking, a hot afternoon from Haifa to Jersualem, wearing an unfamiliar skirt while Ivan scrouched down behind a boulder.

'That's it,' he called, 'show a little leg. Someone's gonna stop when they see that...and the Canadian flag on your backpack...for sure,' he added quickly.

A big truck did pulled over and Ivan popped up to squeeze in the cabin with her. Her cheeks burned as the driver glanced down at her knees. She felt a cheat and didn't like to think of herself as bait.

35 years later she smiled to herself. Such ploys wouldn't work now. She noticed a new brown patches on the back of her hand holding the mug of tea and wondered how her shapeless jeans had become so short. She wore a huge red fleece, scarf, walking shoes and grey socks. Had she bothered to put in earrings this morning ? Most of her jewellery lay in the sewing basket upstairs. Jane had selected certain items : a twisted bangle from Chiang Mai, a garnet pendant and a pair of turquoise Navajo earrings.

A robin tisked-tisked outside. She looked again and wanted to feel air brush her face. She got up, emptied the rest of the tea in the sink and put the kettle on to boil again. 'Hitchhike'. Go for a little trip'.

The kettle switched itself off.

When he got home the kitchen was full of steam. Condensation traced down the window like tears down a cheek.