# Urbani Pustolovina



## avanturista (Dec 14, 2007)

Crouching in the blackness of night, I wait impatiently. I’ve heard nothing over the scanner for over an hour. That train should have been here by now. I can’t be mistaken. I heard it all over the radio. Track warrants had been handed out. There was an eastbound out there somewhere, churning its way through the inky darkness towards my location. 

Malcolm stirs beside me. “I’m sure it’ll get here soon,’ I say. Alice shivers a bit in the cool night air. Time to put on another layer. 

I hear it before anyone else, the deep, guttural growl only a train can make. Time to get out of sight. We walk away from the mainline and crouch behind a storage shed. Anticipation builds. Though I just pissed not five minutes ago, I have the sudden urge to go again. Nerves are getting the better of me, but the anticipation is half the fun. 

The night turns to day. As the engine noise grows louder, a bright light paints itself on the rails. Brighter and brighter, louder and louder, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach grows more and more pronounced. Nervousness that I’m about to fling myself on a moving train. One slip and I have no legs. One glimpse from a cop and we’re all screwed. Why are we even doing this? 

With a roar the metallic beast slowly thunders past our hiding spot. Alice moves impatiently.

“Just wait a while until the engineer gets past us,” I say. “Then we’ll make our move.”

Ten, maybe fifteen cars creak by. All grainers. As the lead engine passes behind a dark line of trees, I chance movement. We jump up as one. We’re almost to the point of no return. Commitment level is nearing 100%. I stride purposefully alongside the train, sizing up the cars. It’s going slow, maybe five miles an hour. I eyeball the wheel nuts as they roll around concentrically, definitely rideable. 

We climb out of the depths of the yard and emerge on a grade crossing. No cars there, just the sound of the warning bells and tons of steel sliding through the night. Heart beat increases. I shift my pack, look back at my crew. “Let’s do this.”

We’re committed. Good thing I’m wearing cycling gloves. I don’t know if I’d trust my sweaty hands on the ladder. “Go for that one!” I yell, pointing at a yellow grainer lurching towards us. We space apart. Three of us are jumping on. I size it up, walk briskly alongside, then break into a quick jog and lunge for the ladder right in front of me. In a fluid motion born of instinct rather than practice and skill, I clench the moving ladder in front of me while bringing my left foot up on the lowest rung. This completed, I pull myself up against the force of gravity as the momentum of the train grabs a hold of me. 

Elation overcomes fear. I’ve done it. The most dangerous part is done. Now I just have to reach my perch. Carefully, slowly, I skirt my way along the edge of the car, climb up the steel ladder, and make my way back along the walkway. The ground is 16 feet down at least. Malcolm and Alice hopped on the last car. I’ve got to climb back to them. We meet up on top of the car. We nod. “Nice.” 

We settle in for the ride through town. It’s a literal gauntlet. Small town cops could be waiting at any crossing. We lie down as cars are spotted. In the age of cell phones, you could have a cop on you in minutes. All it takes is one uptight driver with a thing against train hoppers to ruin it all and land us in a world of legal hurt. 

From my perch on top of the car, the world passes by effortlessly. Backyards and industrial wastelands are the content of this moving picture. I’m elated to see our silhouettes clearly visible on the top of the car as we wheel past a warehouse. I try and snag a picture: no go. It’s too dark. 

Maybe I should explain what I’m doing here. I’m not on some extended trip. I’m on a one-night free-for-all. Not two hours ago the scanner crackled to life. Rough conversation:

Eastbound 20 miles away calls in for a warrant. Dispatch gives them 40 miles, up to the next siding at a one-horse town about 20 miles east of me. Then I hit the gold mine. Dispatch informs the eastbound they’re meeting a westbound there that has work to do in my town. They’re dropping off a set of cars somewhere here. Bottom line is: I’ve got a out and back ride on two different freight trains in one night. I’ve got a good understanding of local operations and know it might work. There are a few kinks, though. We might not be able to make the connection between trains at the siding. One could just rocket by each other. But based on local experience watching meets, I know that won’t happen. This is a small railroad operating under track warrants. They have to set switches and get radio permission for every little operation. If all goes as planned, this will be a sweet all night adventure. I call up Malcolm and Alice. They’re in. We make plans.

So here I am, riding on top of this metal beast. We pass our last grade crossing and head out of town. A steel bridge looms ahead. It’s illuminated like the sun as the train’s headlight reflects off the metal, then returns back to darkness in the absence of light. We roll closer. Silently we slide underneath the upper truss and admire the moon shining on the water.

Fast forward almost two hours. It’s all rehearsed. We know what to do. I intercept a radio call. The westbound’s in the hole. Switch is aligned for us. We’re cleared to East Siding Switch.

We slowly round a corner. 700 watts of locomotive headlight stabs out of the darkness. Night vision is destroyed. Our train is waiting. They dim the light and we go into action. 

The plan: we’ll lie down on the right side of the train. Wait until we pass by the lead engines. Climb down, me on the back, them on the front, then jump right and wait until the train stops or passes by, then go across to the other train. If it doesn’t work, I guess we’ll just improvise from there. 

We pass by. Everything goes right until we’re ready to jump off. I quick dart left and notice we’ve got a good 8 feet between tracks. I rush to the right side. “Jump left!” I scream while gesturing. Malcolm sees and comprehends. We land between the trains. 

We gather in this narrow hallway between behemoths. On my left a train groans by slowly. The train we just hopped off squeals by on the right. The light from the moon gives soft illumination to this scene. I can scarcely comprehend what’s going on. Adrenaline is rushing. I’ve never felt so alive. We find a gondola, climb up, then drop down inside. It’s covered in some white dusty powder. We’re instantly dirty. 

After a brief pause to move the switch we head west, back home. Things don’t go as planned. We’re almost found out. The conductor was feet away. We get shoved 33 car lengths back into the quarry siding. We walk three and a half miles home. I’m back in my room by 3:30 am. But it's all part of the adventure. It’s been a good night.


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## ripecookies (Dec 15, 2007)

This is like the worst story written ever. Its retarded. Can't you just fuckin tell us what really happened? You slimy bastard. All this cryptic storytelling, it sounds like your trying to write a fuckin novel. This is the internet. We don't give a shit. You sound like a fag whose full of yourself.


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## Bendixontherails (Dec 15, 2007)

way not posi, dude. you want a barebones statement of facts hump your pack over to wikipedia and search for some locomotive engine specs. suspense, drama, character development, climax, resolution... all key parts of storytelling. It's what makes it entertaining. sod off.

Nice work Avan.


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## odd (Dec 24, 2007)

it sounds like you had fun you can tell by the way u wrote it. keep up the good work bro 

p.s 
iv'e come by quite a few train kids with syrynges stuck up there ass..jk...no.....seriously joking ok?


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## Withoutatrace (May 2, 2008)

This guy Ripecookies is a flamer. This forum is full of them.
Take no notice avanturista. You wrote a good story.

Withoutatrace


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