While rummaging through some files marked “Personal”, I found some old postcards. I don’t collect that many but these had some meaning to me. Three postcards were from my dad when he lived in France and travelled Europe a bit, and two were from a young man from France who I had met in an atypical way.
Now, you might be thinking something romantic or some abroad study program, but that isn’t even close. To this day, I still haven’t made my way to France as much as I was so fascinated in the country and language in my youth.
So how did I come across receiving postcards from France? Well, one day during my usual commute back home from Highland Park, CA, where I worked as an office cashier in a now defunct grocery market chain, I picked up two hitchhikers in my beige Plymouth Champ, (pretty sure it was that old heap, bought my blue Suzuki Samurai later). I lived in Upland, CA at the time and attended Cal Poly, Pomona studying Behavioral Science.
On the side of the freeway (210 perhaps), there were two young men carrying a sign that read “French”. I had studied a little French in school and thought, well, heck, why not? They seemed to need a lift and I wanted to see if I could put any French to use. But of course, my French sucks! I laugh now at how brave and stupid and I’m sure these two guys were like, wow, a blonde, blue-eyed, stilly American girl is giving us a lift.
It turns out they just needed a ride to the greyhound bus station on Indian Hill, in Claremont. They may have been on their way to Vegas, if my memory is still good.
I barely remember their faces, but I was glad to receive these two postcards.
They are just reminders to me of when I was not afraid of strangers and travelers.
Only took me 30+ years, but just listened to Rita Mitsouko. LOL!
P.S. I graduated college in 1989, so this would have had to have been in the late 80s.