There is an image of Epinal of the stop sign. That, a little sulphurous, of American writers of the 50s, that of adventure. In Saint-Martin, it is written in all the tourist guides under the title "means of transport": the stop would be very practiced.
It is a bit to fill the page of the guide and add choice to the slightly thin alternative "car in traffic" or "bus whose condition is similar to the timetables: uncertain". In reality, it takes a long time, sometimes a long time, before someone stops. But time itself ends up being an ally: as the minutes pass and the sun beats down, the hitchhiker blushes, liquefies and takes pity to the point that the driver can no longer help s 'Stop. This is where the magic happens. We start to chat, we discover a globetrotter from Australia, the former director of a zoo converted to painting or a professional octopus fisherman. It is not always comfortable, however. All the cars are far from being air-conditioned, the musical choices are sometimes doubtful, the drivers wanting to impress are numerous and one cannot look at the landscapes without speaking. To reach two points on the island, there is also the risk of having to take three connections and take a lot of time. It sometimes happens that the driver is a former hitchhiker who, by corporatism and greatness of soul - let him be infinitely thanked for this - goes further than expected to drop us off exactly at the much coveted destination. Ah, the stop! Strength of Saint-Martin, proof that the old sense of service has remained with us, that individualism has not yet made us lay down all arms and that the island is already putting itself at the forefront of the collaborative economy. All you have to do is raise your thumb!_HM
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