Adem seemed to dig my rendition of Eminem’s Lose Yourself, giving me a round of applause (out of pity, if we’re being real), and then introducing me to Turkish Eminem. It was incredible.

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Image for article titled I Picked Up A Hitchhiker In Turkey And It Was Hilariously Weird
Image: David Tracy

Here I was vibin’ to Turkish rap with a guy I’d never met, headed to a town I’d never even heard of (Aksaray), probably getting 33 MPG all the while in the greatest minivan of all time. It was glorious.

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Image for article titled I Picked Up A Hitchhiker In Turkey And It Was Hilariously Weird
Image: David Tracy

After listening to Turkish Eminem, Adem decided to outdo me with his own rapping skills, dropping some of the quickest bars I’ve heard since Ludacris’ part in Usher’s song Yeah. It was impressive.

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I took a bit of a detour from my direct route to Istanbul to drop Adem off in Aksaray, where we both enjoyed Iskander döner — sliced grilled lamb atop bits of pita bread, all covered in tomato sauce and served with yogurt and melted butter. It was magnificent:

Image for article titled I Picked Up A Hitchhiker In Turkey And It Was Hilariously Weird
Image: David Tracy
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Adem and I parted ways in Aksaray, though we keep in touch on Instagram. I asked him about the recent fires in Turkey, and he responded with: “Hello David, we’re fine, but everything is on fire and it can’t be contained. The most beautiful places and forests of my country and the city I live in were burned. unfortunately i’m so sorry.”

It’s tragic, though I’m glad to hear that Adem is doing okay.


I’d never picked up a hitchhiker before, and I understood that giving a ride to a random person in the middle of nowhere, Turkey, where I have very few contacts was a questionable move. But over the past year or so, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of trust — about some of the incredible people who have put their trust in me over the years, about the relationships I’ve built as a result of putting trust in others, and also of the excruciating pain I’ve felt when trust is broken.

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I initially wrote five paragraphs on the interplay between these potential results of giving and receiving trust, and on why, in the end, I’ve concluded that trusting people is worth dealing with the odd betrayal. I deleted those words because they seem a bit deep for a blog about a diesel manual minivan, but suffice it to say: I’ve resolved to err on the side of trust, and to factor in an occasional breach as just an unfortunate and inevitable part of life. The upside of giving trust is just too high to ignore, and I’m convinced that, so long as I’m smart about the way I trust, I should manage to avoid ending up modularized in a duffle bag in some back alley dumpster.

In this case, I saw that the hitchhiker was not physically intimidating, and his garb indicated to me that he was on a big trek that likely wasn’t going to end with him evading police behind the wheel of a stolen minivan. Obviously, I couldn’t be certain about this, but I decided I’d put my new, more pro-trust stance to the test.

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It worked out beautifully.