One day when I was about sixteen years old, my father asked me what I was going to be;
what work or trade would I enter. I answered him that I was going to be a ‘bum’ (tramp).
Years earlier, as a young boy I had seen a bearded man pulling a child’s wagon along a
desert southwest highway, as I was riding by him in our car, on a cross-country road trip.
Something about that man from that two-second view impressed me. I guess I thought
he was a bum.
As I answered my father’s question, I immediately changed my answer to him by saying,
“An adventurer.” More recently, I explained to my father that what I had meant to say
many years ago, but could not put into words at the time that he ask, was that I wanted
my freedom. I did not want to become another groveling wage slave. I think we are all
adventurers in life. Sometimes we are bold and sometimes we are shy, as we go about
chasing after our dreams.
The view, from a flatcar, going over the Sierra Nevada Range
near Tahoe, during the spring snow melt is breathtaking!
Being able to dance about with joy, on a ‘private’ flat car,
moving through all that stark beauty, is a true pleasure.
Catching a ‘Glory Train’ in Sparks, NV can be a little tricky.
To avoid being rejected, the cover of darkness may be helpful.
A ghost train, is a train, of which you are not aware.
NEVER, walk between RR tracks, always walk to one side!
When a ghost train rolls by, you will not be in the way!
She slipped by me, silent as a panther, clipped my bed roll and spun me around, gently.
A moment later, I shuddered, as I realized how badly my adventure could have ended,
if I had been walking on her path, between the tracks.
For lack of better ways to alleviate the boredom of my developmentally challenged youth,
I traveled about the western half of our country hitchhiking, until one day, Fate, offered me
a free train ride. I learned to prefer the privacy, and the lay down sleeping comfort,
of riding alone on freight trains. Somehow, I lost my watch, while riding in the company
of another bum.
At various times, I carried freight, my load of supplies, with me on my mechanical mule,
a bicycle, and loaded everything onto a freight train, for the longer hauls.
Shasta is beautiful from the rails, with no need to keep your eyes on the road.
There is an underground stream that comes out near the siding where the trains stop
to pass by each other. Some places I waited a few days before another train stopped
or was going slow enough to allow me to get aboard.
Composing members:
0
Composing members:
0
