My fondest hitching memory while backpacking Europe took place in 1986 when hitching was popular (and still is?) . I was on the outskirts of Munich on an Autobahn onramp and I was the last one in the hitching queue (5-10 others). Expecting a considerable wait (1-2 hours) before my turn for a ride, the driver of a new Porche 911 Carrera ignored standard hitchiking protocol and stopped specifically for me (I was, I think, the only American). Surprised as F, I of course piled in after I managed to squeeze in my backpack in the limited space behind our seats. You couldn't help but notice the envious look of all the other German hitchers as we pulled out. He quickly learned that I spoke half-decent German (German was one of my majors) and we talked about all kinds of stuff (he worked at a Porsche dealership/gave me his card). He was driving relatively conservatively. There were stretches of 2 lane highway. Eventually, we ended up behind a big truck. As soon as he pulled out to pass, I had my first taste of his raw Porshe 911 Carrera POWER. We built up speed and the engine was howling, roaring. We "cruised" at NASCAR speeds and passed slower Autobahn traffic as if it was standing still. He pointed to the speedometer and it read 265 kph (165 MPH). Needless to say, I arrived at my destination (on my way to Czechoslovakia) in a brisk 3-4 hours. The ride remains to this day as my most thrilling cage ride ever. I also remember the German sportbike riders often wearing full leathers.
