Hey man, you want some of this?

We were off! On our own journey, across our own country, in our own way. We knew what we wanted, where to do it, how to do it, we just had to grow a pair, and do it. Nike haha.
Well it was about 6 in the evening, and here we were on our own, after a whirlwind Canada Day weekend. We were still on a high, and our hearts were racing from getting dropped off 10 minutes ago and the emotions still hadn't really kicked in.
It didn't need to settle as we had been on the highway for easily 20 seconds when a beat up pickup swerved to the shoulder and stopped abruptly several yards in front of us.
Mike and I looked at each other, dumbfounded that it hadn't even been a minute and someone had already pulled over for us. We walked to the truck and the good vibes were bittersweet, as we noticed about 6 guys in total. This was against our only rule; getting out-numbered. It would leave us and our expensive equipment vulnerable. We hesitated for a second when the driver hopped out, and greeted us. They were a bunch of brothers/friends who worked together for a moving company in town and were on their way home from work. He was real cool, and it clouded any doubts. We tossed our stuff in the back, and hopped into the truck bed with 2 of the boys. We later learned they had lost in their daily-seat-deciding game of pulling straws, and that they always picked up hitchers, though it wasn't often they'd see one. They were going home to Arnprior, about 40km west of Ottawa. It was a start, but we knew it could be our last hitch of the day as we had waited so long to get on the road.
We told them what we were doing and they couldn't believe it. They said how jealous they all were, as they hated their jobs and town. We told them all about it, along with the contacts we had if they ever decided to go. I doubt they did anything. I remember looking out the window through the cloud of smoke, and thinking how surreal the whole situation was. i couldn't believe we were actually doing it, and we were off to the best start.
They were cool guys, but I'd seen their type before; small town, beer loving 'hicks'. One even had on a cowboy hat, and we were technically still in Ottawa. We asked them what they did for fun in their small town and the one across from me smiled coyishly. He and a guy in the front seat simultaneously pulled out two fat joints, licked 'em and lit 'em.
I had decided beforehand that I wouldn't talk too much about my personal life with drivers, and I was more interested in theirs anyways. I didn't tell the boys about my smoking habits, or my life, and just let them talk while I enjoyed their fine craftsmanship.
Sooner than I, and I think Mike too, were ready, we slowed to where they were dropping us off. After the typical 'pounding of fists' with the boys, we bid adieu, and jumped out of the truck.
I was high as f*ck.....and on my trip.
I wasn't in Arnprior, I was on Cloud 9.