Mindful Reflection: Hitchhiking Lessons | Lesson #3 – Nashville Nights
September 1, 2026, | Brian Mitchell
Sometimes the path to our destination is filled with choices that shape our story.
It was the weekend, primetime, and I was in Nashville, Tennessee. What a perfect place and time to take a break and enjoy myself. Yet all I could think about was getting another 40 miles down the road to Clarksville.
Why? I wish I could answer that question logically. All I remember is looking at the map in my backpack and deciding that I wanted to reach Clarksville that night so I could get an early start the next morning.
I had a destination. And at 21 years old, once I had a destination in mind, it took quite a bit to change it. I was about to find out just how much.
An Unexpected Offer
My next ride seemed promising. Three lovely young ladies picked me up. They were friendly, outgoing, and seemed delighted to provide me with transportation and company. I was delighted as well – for a few minutes, anyway.
Then they made an offer that might have been one of those life-changing forks in the road. They wanted me to go out on the town with them in Nashville, stay at their home that night, and then ride to Virginia Beach with one of them the next morning. Virginia Beach. East. Exactly the direction I was headed. I was torn.
Then came the tipping point—and it will probably sound ridiculous. I had been on the road for almost 16 hours, wearing a baseball cap, carrying a very heavy backpack, and doing what hitchhikers did in 1974. I was grubby and scrubby, to say the least. I didn’t exactly feel prepared for a night on the town with three attractive young women.
So, I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time. I said, “No thank you.” They seemed shocked that I would turn down not one, but all three of them.
Frankly, looking back, I’m a little shocked myself. But I had made up my mind. Clarksville was the goal, so I asked them to drop me at their exit. And they did.
Distraction or Opportunity?
I periodically and symbolically kicked myself for years afterward. What might have happened if I had stayed? Would I have loved Nashville so much that I wouldn’t have wanted to leave? Would I have developed lifelong friendships with those three women? Would Virginia Beach have changed the entire course of my trip?
I will never know and for a long time, I thought the lesson was obvious: Don’t allow shiny objects distract you from your destination. There is wisdom in that because goals matter; discipline matters and staying the course matters.
But after more than five decades of living and leading, I’m not sure the lesson is quite that simple. Sometimes what looks like a distraction may actually be an opportunity. And sometimes what looks like an opportunity may take us somewhere we never intended to go. The challenge is knowing the difference.
Leadership requires more than determination. It requires discernment.
I eventually stopped wondering what might have been and I have no regrets. Ironically, Nashville eventually became one of my favorite towns. I guess it was willing to give me another chance.
Clarksville, Here I Come!
Not long afterward, a beat-up old van stopped. Inside were five party-hearty guys enjoying marijuana and some wine so cheap I had never heard of it. The van smoked as much as they did, and I swear that thing burned more oil than petrol.
They were pretty wild – even by my standards – but they were also friendly, happy, generous, and accommodating. And I noticed something – They treated me as though I mattered. That stayed with me. Leadership lessons don’t always arrive in classrooms, boardrooms, books, or executive meetings. Sometimes they arrive in beat-up vans.
I didn’t know much about these guys. Their lifestyles and mine were clearly different. But they welcomed a stranger into their circle and made him feel important. There is something powerful about that. People may forget many things about an encounter with us, but they tend to remember how we made them feel.
And leadership begins changing when we stop asking, “How important is this person?” and start asking, “How can I let this person know that they are important?”
Another Offer East
The AM radio was blaring country music – unless the guys decided listening to my hitchhiking stories was more entertaining. They made fun of my accent and dialect in a curious, almost affectionate way. Meanwhile, I thought they sounded like the hillbillies I had seen on television and in movies. We were quite a cultural exchange program.
Before we had even traveled the 40-plus miles to Clarksville, they offered to drive me all the way home to Vermont the next day. That was the second offer I had turned down within about an hour.
My immediate thought was: There is no way this hunk of junk van will ever make it to Vermont. But I will never forget the generosity behind the offer. They didn’t owe me anything, yet they were willing to help. Sometimes an imperfect offer can come from a perfectly genuine heart.
“We Know You’re in There!”
When we reached Clarksville, naturally they wanted me to go out with them. I wanted a shower, and some sleep, so I convinced them to drop me at a motel. They promptly promised to return in 30 minutes. But I had other ideas. I promptly showered, climbed into that “oh so comfortable bed”, and quickly fell asleep with absolutely no intention of joining them.
Then came the knocking, followed by more knocking, and eventually pounding on my door.
“We know you’re in there!”
The motel operator had kindly provided them with my room number. Thank you very much! So much for privacy. I assumed they were angry because I had tried to avoid them. But eventually, their persistence won. When I opened the door, I discovered something surprising. They weren’t angry. In fact, they were happy I was finally coming with them. My assumption had been wrong. That’s something worth remembering.
Sometimes fear really is built on evidence that isn’t real, but as I was about to learn, not every warning should be dismissed as fear. Wisdom is learning the difference.
The Evening Gets Interesting
The six of us piled into a sedan and headed out. After driving around for a while, my concern returned. This time, with more justification.
A patrol car appeared behind us with its lights flashing. Oh! Oh! The driver quickly turned a corner, and several bags of marijuana suddenly disappeared out the car windows and into the darkness alongside the road.
I remember thinking: I will never get out of here now. We pulled over. Then two police officers approached the car, one on either side, flashlights shining through the windows. I was in the middle of the back seat with my long hair, trying to make myself approximately six inches tall.
One officer said: “Hello, boys.” Then he informed us that we had run a stop sign. His flashlight moved around the inside of the car. Then something remarkable happened. He recognized one of the guys in the front seat. “Aren’t you so-and-so’s boy?” “Yes.” “Well, you tell your daddy I said hello. And you boys, be careful now. Have a good night.”
And that was it. I sat there thinking: What just happened? Once again, it was time to be incredibly grateful.
Knowing When to Leave
A short time later, the five guys dropped me back at the motel and informed me that they would return between seven and eight the next morning. I thanked them, went inside and immediately and set the motel alarm clock – For 5:00 AM.
I genuinely liked those guys, and I appreciated their kindness and their generosity. And I have remembered them fondly for more than 50 years. But I also knew something else. It was time for me to go.
That night taught me something I couldn’t have articulated at 21 – Gratitude does not require surrendering our judgment.
We can appreciate people without following them everywhere they are going. We can recognize someone’s good intentions without making their direction our direction. And we can change course without condemning the people whose path we choose not to follow. That is discernment.
A Final Reflection
That evening began with three young women offering me an entirely different adventure. Then five strangers welcomed me into theirs. Both groups offered friendship and transportation. Both offered a different path, and I turned down both.
Were all my decisions, right? I have no idea, and that is part of the lesson – Leadership rarely gives us the luxury of knowing exactly where every choice will lead before we make it.
We make the best decision we can with the information, experience, values, instincts, and wisdom available to us at the time. Then we keep moving. Some opportunities should be pursued. Some distractions should be resisted. Some fears should be challenged. Some warnings should be respected, and some people will travel with us for years. Others may share our road for only 40 miles in a beat-up van.
The wisdom is learning the difference without losing our appreciation for either.
Because the choices we make along the road do not simply determine where we arrive. They help determine who we become along the way.
And somewhere before sunrise in a Clarksville motel room, a 21-year-old hitchhiker set an alarm for 5:00 AM. The journey east was not over. Neither were the lessons.
The dream is free. But the journey isn’t.
