One summer I was driving from my hometown of Tahoe City, California, to New Orleans. In the middle of the desert, I came upon a young man standing by the roadside. He had his thumb out and held a gas can in his other hand. I drove right by him. There was a time in the country when you'd be considered a stupid person if you passed by somebody in need. Now you are a fool for helping. With gangs, drug addicts, murderers, thieves everywhere, "I don't want to get involved" has become a national motto. Several states later I was still thinking about the hitch-hiker . Leaving him standing in the desert did not bother me so much. What bothered me was how easily I had reached the decision. I never even lifted my foot off the accelerator . Does anyone stop any more? I wondered. I recalled Blanche DuBois's family line: "I have always depended on the kindness of the strangers". Could anyone rely on the kindness of the strangers these days? One way to test this would be for a person to journey from coast to coast without any money, relying only on the good will of his fellow Americans. What kind of Americans would he find? Who would feed him, shelter him, and carry him down the road? The idea interested me. So I decided to travel from the Pacific to the Atlantic without a penny. It would be a cashless journey through the land of the almighty dollar. I would only accept offers of rides, food and a place to rest my head. My final destination would be Cape Fear in North Carolina, a symbol of all the fears I'd have to conquer during the trip. I rose early on September 6, 1994, and headed for the Golden Gate Bridge with a 50-pound pack on my back and a sign displaying my destination to passing vehicles: "America". For six weeks I hitched 82 rides and covered 4,223 miles across 14 states. As I traveled, folks were always warning me about someplace else. In Montana they told me to watch out for the cowboys in Wyoming; in Nebraska they said people would not be as nice as in Iowa. Yet I was amazed by people's readiness to help a stranger, even when it seemed against their own best interests. Why did the author drive past the young man in the desert without stopping?
Because he failed to notice this man. Because he was driving too fast. Because he was afraid of being cheated. Because he thought the young man didn't need help.