Expecting that the hitchhiking would be hard, we decided to ride a bus to the nearest small town in our direction and hitch from there instead. Small towns are always better than big cities. It took us quite some logistics to get there and ended up on the actual road, thumbs up, a little past midday. The spot was good, tacticwise: a slow onramp, with visibility to the highway as well, in case someone on there would want to pick us up from top speed, as it happened plenty of time in Chile (Yes! The side of the highway is hitchable in Chile!). It wasn’t too confortable given that there was no shadow available and the sun was pretty punishing.
We stayed there two hours. We saw more than a thousand car pass us without stopping, without a look. More than a hundred at slow speed on the on-ramp. One of them slowed down a little and started blubbering excuses like : “I’m only going not far at all, right-there-not-interesting-for-you”. Weirdo almost jumped in his path : “That’s where we’re going too!” He hesitated a bit before stopping.
Unsurprisingly, the dude was on his way to drive a whooping 20 kilometres. More than what we needed to get to a decent gas station. A wine maker! Weirdo being from France, they couldn’t help talking about wine the whole time. What’s so special about this foul-smelling drink anyways? They won’t let me taste it…
The gas station had a truck with Brazilian ID. Weirdo pounced on the poor driver like a rabid hyena. Only a foreigner could save us from the evil evil Argentinians. Off we went with Mr trucker for 150 kilometres!
A really cool dude. He told us the coolest trucker-stories. It was a bit sad when we had to leave him. In particular with the context of night having fallen and us being in this shitty place called Argentina where hitchhikers are transparent to everyone.