In my 'trade plating' days I had many lifts from Irish travellers. I'd typically be holding my plates out when a Ford Transit would pull up, with four men crammed into the three seats up front. After a quick enquiry from the one nearest to me about where I was heading for, I'd be invited to jump in the back. Upon doing so, I'd then meet their wives and loads of children, who were all sitting on the floor. I'd immediately be offered cakes and sandwiches, together with tea from their flasks. (I always declined the offer of "Are you sure you won't take a drop of the hard stuff?" though).
After a really friendly chat, and plenty of food inside me, I'd suddenly find that I was at my exact destination, with the driver having taken a big detour to get me there.
Travellers were great for offering lifts, as were certain other groups of people, such as taxi drivers and doctors. Many hundreds of drivers wearing clerical collars passed me without stopping though. (I often wondered if they were on their way to preach about the good Samaritan or to tell people that they should love their neighbours!)