Carless travelers still find a way to N.C.

Holiday travel conjures images of lines at airports, families wearied by long car rides and passengers packed into trains and buses. But there is another way to go that's less expensive, less reliable and often more adventurous.

It's the stuff of holiday movies, how people of limited means who lack a reliable car or a ticket somehow still cover the distance. These days, one of their first stops is the Internet, where many raise a cyber thumb seeking a stranger going their way. If that fails, they turn to an older network -- a friend of a friend.

Here's how three such travelers who started with Internet pleas for a ride detoured to another route and made it to North Carolina.

Strangers' 17-hour adventure blends chaos and fun

It occurred to Preston Faggart somewhere around Jackson, Miss., that he might be getting a little old for this.

At 71, he occasionally forgets things. Like his credit card, which he just realized he had left in a quick mart -- what was the name of that place, and which exit was it? -- when he and his driver, Cheryl Jones, last stopped to fill the tank.

"And now we're going to have to turn around and go back," an angry Faggart said into his cell phone Tuesday. They turned around to merge into the wall of westbound 5 o'clock traffic on Interstate 20. They ought to have been headed east.

"It's OK," Jones told him. "This could be an adventure."

When he forgot his credit card, he and Jones had been on the road for eight and a half hours. They were not quite halfway to North Carolina.

They still hadn't decided where they would part ways. Faggart, a painter and professional oboist, was trying to get to his brother Maury's home in Cornelius, north of Charlotte, or somewhere close enough to it that his brother could pick him up.

Later, he planned to attend a Thanksgiving reunion with old friends and fellow musicians in Kernersville.

It was a one-way trip for Jones, who grew up in Monroe, ran away from home at age 15 and now, at 44, was finally going back. Her ex-husband and her five children are already here.

She wrote "N.C. or Bust" on the back window of her blue Chevrolet Cobalt. The little car was stuffed with things Jones decided she couldn't start her new life without. Faggart was allowed one backpack, which he filled with a change of clothes, snacks for the road and a handful of music CDs.

Faggart and Jones connected through a mutual friend.

Originally, Faggart did what people do these days when they need something: He posted a notice on the Internet. Craigslist.com alone had dozens of postings from people trying to find rides to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. The hitchhikers sent out pleas from Florida, Maryland, Ohio, New York. For each one, there was somebody in Chapel Hill or Greensboro or Wilson hoping to have one more place to set for dinner.

"I bet it's been 10 years since I've seen him," said Ginger Moore about Faggart.

Moore's husband had planned to surprise her with a Thanksgiving get-together that included Faggart and other old friends, as well as the couple's musician-sons. He couldn't keep the secret, but that didn't diminish Moore's excitement. She has known Faggart since she was a teenager and he was the choir director at her church in Yaupon Beach.

"He was a music mentor for me and my brother," Moore said.

Faggart accepted the invitation, knowing his '97 Honda with 245,000 miles on the odometer couldn't make the trip. Moore's husband offered to send a plane ticket. Faggart said no.

"I'm poor," said Faggart, who also has worked as a drafting engineer. "But I'm enjoying my poverty."

Though it meant she had to jettison some of her cargo, Jones was happy for the company.

They made pretty good time until they got to Shreveport, La., and heard the siren call of a casino. Faggart lost $10 in the slots. Cheryl lost $20. They got salads to go and got back on the road. Country music played as they talked.

"In two hours, we'll be in Vicksburg," Faggart said. "My big temptation in Vicksburg is to stop and fight the Civil War. After that, we'll be on Sherman's March to Atlanta."

They passed Atlanta about 11 p.m., frustration over the forgotten credit card way behind them. He kept offering to drive. Jones kept saying she was fine.

They stopped for coffee somewhere north of Atlanta. By 1 a.m., they were too tired to talk much.

"We're sort of quiet right now," Faggart said. "I keep falling asleep. But Cheryl's showing very few signs of wear."

Three hours later -- after 17 hours on the road -- Jones delivered Faggart to his brother's house in Cornelius.

After she left, Faggart realized he had forgotten to get his winter coat out of her car.