Remembering when Kildare travelled by thumb
Frank on his European expedition in 1962
HOW far back does the remembered past of an 84-year-old go? I have been attempting to recall the changes in Irish society and those of my own personal life over the years, but unfortunately my memory is much sketchier than I had thought.
I am intrigued by the absence of ‘thumbers’ on Irish roads at a time when so many young and old alike have cars and motor bikes.
How so unlike the days seventy years ago when as an Offaly Street resident I was aware of the few cars which passed through our street with regularity.
They belonged to the local GP, Dr Joe O’Neill and the local Church of Ireland Rector, Canon McGinley and in my minds eye I can still see Tadgh Brennan, the local solicitor, who could park his car during office hours outside his office in Emily Square.
It could not be done today with the constant flow of traffic passing that way.
‘Thumbing a lift’ is something I associate with my early working days with Kildare County Council in Naas.
I started work in January 1961 and found myself thumbing a lift home every Saturday afternoon.
Council officials then worked a five-and-a-half-day week, finishing at 1pm on a Saturday. I would stand on the Kilcullen Road facing the relatively scarce motor traffic with my left hand extended and a thumb pointed upwards soliciting ‘a lift’ to Athy.
Thumbing a lift was a common practice on Irish roads in the 1960s, but now with extensive private car ownership it is seldom seen today.
I thumbed a lift every Monday morning as I sought to return to work in Naas always standing on the Dublin Road opposite McDonnell Drive.
It was something I had to do also in the evenings when I attended University College Dublin evening classes for a B.Comm. Degree.
When I think back on it, I am astonished that I was able to complete the course.
The lectures were in Earlsfort Terrace and when they finished at 8 o’clock or thereabouts, I took buses to get to Newlands Cross where I thumbed a lift back to Naas.
There were no motorways in those days, apart from the newly opened dual carriageway which was opened in the early 1960s between Naas and Johnstown.
I stood at Newlands Cross thumbing a lift and not always succeeding.
The fallback was the last bus to Naas which fortunately as an impoverished clerical officer I did not have to use very often.
I can remember two lifts I got at Newlands Cross.
John B. Keane, the wonderful Listowel writer and his companion who was driving, stopped to give me a lift to Naas.
Apparently, they had been attending an anti-compulsory Irish function and for the time it took to reach Naas, I was given every reason in the world why compulsory Irish was not acceptable. Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable trip and one which made John B.’s literary work even more acceptable to me.
One other well remembered car driver who stopped to give me a lift was Bishop Eamon Casey. He was driving a big car and as soon as I sat in the front passenger seat he sprinkled me with holy water.
He set off with a speed which I remember was fast and furious. My only other memory of the Newlands Cross ‘thumbing spot’ was the evening as I stood at the edge of the road facing the Dublin direction when a car driven at speed from the Rathcoole direction passed within an inch or two of me as it overtook another car going in the same direction.
If I had stepped out, I would not be here to recount the story.
‘Thumbing a lift’ was something I was well used to by the time Frank English and myself first went on a holiday to France.
We flew to Cherbourg and then thumbed our way to Paris and thereafter to Dunkirk, always staying in youth hostels.
This was in or around 1962 when very few Irish were taking continental holidays.
We had an enjoyable time meeting French drivers who were more than happy to help us, so long as we were not Germans.
In 1966 Frank and myself, after a previous year’s trip to London, flew to Brussels with the intention of thumbing our way to Berlin. We succeeded in thumbing lifts as far as the German border, but on encountering the German autobahns, we were picked up by the German police and not allowed on the motorways.
Thereafter, we travelled by train to Berlin and made a day trip to East Berlin, then under Russian control.
The differences between Ireland and Germany when it came to thumbing lifts were very clear and it reflected the present position we now experience on the motorways of today’s Ireland.
Life in Ireland has changed in many ways since the 1960s and for one elderly fellow who remembers those times it is the absence of ‘thumbing’ on our roads which sparks never to be forgotten memories.
