Roll of the Dice: Hitch Hikin’

All through the summers of ’64, ’65, ’66 and ‘67 I’d hitchhiked the twenty miles from Freehold to Manasquan and back almost every day. I’d ridden with concerned moms, drunk drivers, truckers, street racers eager to show off what they had under the hood, traveling businessmen, and only one middle-aged salesman who was a little too interested in me. I’d hopped in with guys who had souped-up sound systems with echo chambers connected to their AM radios, “in-car” 45 record players set on springs under the dash near the shifter. Every sort of rube, redneck, responsible citizen and hell-raiser the Jersey Shore had to offer, I rode with ’em. I loved hitchhiking and meeting people. I miss it today. — Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run 

There’s an argument to be made (and I would make it) that Western Stars  is Bruce Springsteen’s most cinematic album. If so, “Hitch Hikin'” is its overture.

It isn’t quite accurate to say “Hitch Hikin'” is a song devoid of plot; there are several, in fact, but our narrator merely passes through them with blithe acknowledgement. “Hitch Hikin'” is a song that celebrates freedom from plot. Plot is what happens when you spend too much time in one place with the same people.

Our narrator is blissfully free of such tethers. He has no destination in mind, and if he’s even aware of where he is at the moment, he doesn’t care enough to let us in on it. Bruce even declines to offer us a musical introduction; we simply join our hitchhiker mid-journey as he takes his next breath.

Thumb stuck out as I go
I’m just traveling up the road
Maps don’t do much for me, friend
I follow the weather and the wind

I’m hitch hiking all day long
Got what I can carry and my song
I’m a rolling stone just rolling on
Catch me now ’cause tomorrow I’ll be gone

Bruce devotes the first two verses to establishing his character, an unusual amount of real estate for a songwriter known for his economy. That’s not laziness, though–Bruce is deliberately subverting our expectations as a way of saying that’s all there is, there’s nothing more to learn about me.

Even the music is carefree. “Hitch Hikin'” is one of the more lushly orchestrated songs on the album, but its first two verses are dominated by an almost idle strumming, a carefree combination of banjo, guitar, and celeste.

That’s about to change, though. In each successive verse, our narrator hitches a ride with a new acquaintance, and each time he hops in a new ride, the music picks up a hitchhiker, too: first the deep upright bass when we meet the family man, then the piano for the trucker, and finally violins for the gearhead. It’s Bruce’s slyest trick on the album, and it makes me smile every time I listen to the song.

However, it’s notable that the musical hitchhikers hop in but never hop out. Bruce carries them all for the remainder of the song, adding lushness with each new layer as if to suggest by subtle counterpoint that what the narrator sees as encumbrance can also provide life with its color and richness.

Enough about our hitchers, though–let’s meet our drivers.

Family man gives me a ride
Got his pregnant Sally at his side
Yes indeed, sir, children are a gift
Thank you kindly for the lift

Trucker gears his engine down
Says, “Climb on up, son, I’m highway bound”
Dashboard picture of a pretty girl
I’m riding high on top of the world

Gearhead in a souped-up ’72
Wants to show a kid just what this thing’ll do
Telephone poles and trees go whizzing by
Thank you pal, she sure can fly

These verses may seem like insubstantial vignettes, but each is carefully constructed to highlight something that our drifter lacks and that most people value: family, a job, possessions.

Our narrator doesn’t just lack these things–he dismisses them. Heck, he barely notices them. He gives gracious lip service, though: Sure, children are a gift. Yep, she sure can fly. Whatever you want to hear, pal. It never occurs to him to ask who the girl is in the picture; he never volunteers any information about himself. He’s not trying to connect, and he’s certainly not interested in making friends.

Like most of the characters in Western Stars, he’s just moving forward, ever forward.

At the end of Western Stars, just before the sublime “Moonlight Motel,” Bruce bookends “Hitch Hikin'” with “Hello Sunshine,” a song featuring a similarly itinerant narrator. If the album’s opening track celebrates freedom from connections on the open road, “Hello Sunshine” notes the importance of the ties that bind in life’s journey.

On an album filled with vividly cinematic character studies, these two songs are likely the most autobiographical. One captures the young songwriter feeling his independence, the other an elder artist who understands its cost. In between lies a cast of characters coping with a journey progressively nearing its end. (“Catch me now ’cause tomorrow I’ll be gone” — that line gives me pause every time.)

Western Stars is a travelogue, and it opens with a song that celebrates the ride.

Bonus: Bruce has only performed “Hitch Hikin'” once in concert, a private affair that was filmed and released under the same name. And like the rest of the album, the live version of “Hitch Hikin” does not match the beauty of the studio version.

The differences are subtle but significant, like the extended introduction that robs the song of its immediacy, and the absence of the soundstage that progressively layers the orchestration to convey an increasingly crowded vehicle. Still, it’s a lovely performance and Bruce’s only live one to date for this song. It’s worth a watch.

Hitch Hikin’
Recorded: 2010-2018
Released: Western Stars (2019)
First performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)
Last performed: April 2019 (Colts Neck, NJ)

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