I’m standing on a grass verge by a roundabout with a sign for Maribor and a frightened look on my face. There’s been a few moments so far when I’ve stared idiocy and insanity in the eyes and said; “I need you in my life.” Before I arrived at this spot, I’d checked hitchwiki to discover a number of foolhardy types had been fined by police for trying to get a lift here. Low and behold I drop my backpack and they creep out of the woodwork, slowing round the bend. I casually pretend to stretch and look forlorn from the effort of carrying my stuff in the hope that they’ll take pity on me. Now it would be much more interesting to this story to say that they picked me up, confiscated my passport and fined me; but they don’t. Regardless, this is still a dangerous spot to stand. I get my daft grin on and hold up the sign.
Maybe ten cars pass and I’ve got a ride, and as much as I am very grateful to all the pick ups I get, this is very much appreciated. He’s a decent lad too, good English, and the journey passes enjoyably. By lunchtime I’m finally in a new country.