Only one person in a thousand aspires to become a Subway Hitchhiker. Nobody knows why, either. Of those aspirants, only one in a thousand is chosen. That aspect’s equally mysterious.
Question: With 2,371 cars operating in Tokyo, how many Hitchhikers?
DL pondered Soviet subway systems in Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, Tbilisi, Baku, Kharkov, Tashkent, Minsk, Yerevan, Gorky, Novosibirsk, Kuybishev, Sverdlovsk, Riga, and Dnepropetrovsk. To say nothing of related Warsaw Pact, Eastern Bloc operations.
At least they didn’t suffer graffiti. Not with spellings like theirs. No, both Hitchhikers and vandals in those realms have different problems to confront.
Not a single ballot had been cast, either.
For more from my THIRD RAIL collection, click here.
Thoreau turned upstream on the Merrimack rather than to the ocean before heading back ~*~ needles and rotting leaves the floor of the stream steep water the color of tea it’s a dangerous river that was home shores denuded when tall pines older than the railroad were felled to make way for fiber optic cable […]
Resting on the park bench, she complained she couldn’t keep pace with her children. When the seven-year-old pest returned, demanding, “Ma, give me money” for a cola, she complied, thinking it love. ~*~ She couldn’t touch her toes. ~*~ Her legs pushed away from each other, yet in her cotton dress, unexpectedly as she swatted […]
and that’s the really frightening thing the bomb-sniffing dog on the way to the Laundromat, before ~*~ I’ve had enough this season to satisfy my sensibilities though it’s still unseasonably warm and raining lingering over food this buzzing finds pollen wherever our sun warms ~*~ yet to the Appropriate Authorities Immigration and Naturalization Service, the […]
“you said when you married you’d still make love to other guys” the guest at the house party argued though now I initially have difficulty telling whether he’s talking to the bride or the groom even as he added “you’re too young to be getting married” he spent the night anyway among those of us […]
with empty matchbooks all about the apartment stank, as it had since the 17-year-old sister encamped at the door, a 50-year-old tattooed sallow visitor with a front tooth missing inquired if she was home yet said he’ll be back tomorrow To continue, click here. Copyright 2015
Two cheerleaders wore white gym shoes and thick white socks leading to smooth adolescent legs and who knew what else. Freak girls bummed cigarettes like crazy and you fed their neuroses. A chubby chick fought and shrieked the hardest. “God-damn fart-face!” she called a boy she hit squarely, not to be left out. To continue, […]