When I was a youngster, I did some work for my Uncle in North Wales and the money he paid me was just enough to cover the coach fare back to South Wales. It was then that I decided to become a Hitchhiker. My Uncle dropped me off at the Chester end of the A41 and I waited there patiently with my little cardboard sign marked South Wales, please. Two cars, three trucks and four hours later I was home in Newport, thirty quid better off. When I later moved to London, hitchhiking served as a tool to get to Wales for the weekend for free. Unwritten rules come into play a lot when you hitchhike. Anyone who has hitchhiked extensively will fondly tell you about the best lift they ever had and when asked about the worst, will answer that it was mindnumbingly boring (if they live to tell the tale).