Dameon
Well-known member
It's late at night, or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it. My road dawg Booger is sound asleep, but I have to bounce up and watch every time a southbound comes through. The idea is to catch a train from Portland to Eugene, then hitch from there to Mutant Fest.
"Are we catching that one?" I've asked several times. Booger knows even without opening his eyes that we don't want any of these. Finally, I manage to calm down enough to wrap myself in my sleeping bag and snooze. The sun's shining when I wake up, and a southbound is crawling down the tracks at slower than walking speed.
We're both packed in seconds, and running for it. I didn't want to catch on the fly, but now I just want to get on the damn train. Booger jumps on a car, and yells for me to grab the next one down. I jump on and hide myself as best I can, considering the car has no real nooks and crannies for me to conceal myself well. My heart is pounding, and I can't believe I've finally done it.
The train stops. Then, it begins backing up toward the yard.
"Oi!" comes the cry, and I look around the car toward the front of the car. "It's pulling back into the yard! Let's get off!" I throw my gear off and follow it, and we retreat back to our catch out spot, watching the train, which continues going in reverse. In a moment or two, it stops.
"What do you think?" Booger asks. "You want to wait for another one, or try this one?" He's leaving me room to back out, since it's my first time.
"Fuck it," I say. "Let's do it." This time, having watched the train, we've found a grainer with one of those nice cubbyholes. Booger gets on first, and we get our gear into the cubbyhole and follow it, tucking ourselves in so we can't be seen from outside.
The next 20 minutes is confusing and harrying; every time the train starts to pick up speed, it stops and reverses toward the yard. I try not to agonize myself over possibilities, and focus on the fact that no matter what, I at least got on a train.
Finally, the train really gets moving, and this time it's obvious there won't be anymore reverse bullshit. We wait until we're out past the suburbs of Portland and into the country, and crawl out. The scenery is beautiful, and I crack open a celebratory beer. I'm already convinced that this is the way I want to travel. We wave at cars waiting for the train to pass, even though I know it's dangerous for them to see me, because I'm too exuberant to hide from them. I'm amused by how many of them are simply staring off into space and never even notice the grinning dirty train kids going right by their faces.
We tuck into cold cans of chili and ravioli as the sun works its way westward. The ride isn't exceptional; the scenery is beautiful, but not abnormally so. The grainer is a nice ride, but not as cool as the boxcar I'd hoped for. Still, I'm enjoying it more than traveling by airplane, Amtrak, car, or walking.
As the train slows to walking speed approaching the Eugene yard, we hop off well away from town, and chuckle at the bull just outside the yard watching the train. A five mile walk into town is a small price to pay for such a great trip.
I can't wait to do it again.
"Are we catching that one?" I've asked several times. Booger knows even without opening his eyes that we don't want any of these. Finally, I manage to calm down enough to wrap myself in my sleeping bag and snooze. The sun's shining when I wake up, and a southbound is crawling down the tracks at slower than walking speed.
We're both packed in seconds, and running for it. I didn't want to catch on the fly, but now I just want to get on the damn train. Booger jumps on a car, and yells for me to grab the next one down. I jump on and hide myself as best I can, considering the car has no real nooks and crannies for me to conceal myself well. My heart is pounding, and I can't believe I've finally done it.
The train stops. Then, it begins backing up toward the yard.
"Oi!" comes the cry, and I look around the car toward the front of the car. "It's pulling back into the yard! Let's get off!" I throw my gear off and follow it, and we retreat back to our catch out spot, watching the train, which continues going in reverse. In a moment or two, it stops.
"What do you think?" Booger asks. "You want to wait for another one, or try this one?" He's leaving me room to back out, since it's my first time.
"Fuck it," I say. "Let's do it." This time, having watched the train, we've found a grainer with one of those nice cubbyholes. Booger gets on first, and we get our gear into the cubbyhole and follow it, tucking ourselves in so we can't be seen from outside.
The next 20 minutes is confusing and harrying; every time the train starts to pick up speed, it stops and reverses toward the yard. I try not to agonize myself over possibilities, and focus on the fact that no matter what, I at least got on a train.
Finally, the train really gets moving, and this time it's obvious there won't be anymore reverse bullshit. We wait until we're out past the suburbs of Portland and into the country, and crawl out. The scenery is beautiful, and I crack open a celebratory beer. I'm already convinced that this is the way I want to travel. We wave at cars waiting for the train to pass, even though I know it's dangerous for them to see me, because I'm too exuberant to hide from them. I'm amused by how many of them are simply staring off into space and never even notice the grinning dirty train kids going right by their faces.
We tuck into cold cans of chili and ravioli as the sun works its way westward. The ride isn't exceptional; the scenery is beautiful, but not abnormally so. The grainer is a nice ride, but not as cool as the boxcar I'd hoped for. Still, I'm enjoying it more than traveling by airplane, Amtrak, car, or walking.
As the train slows to walking speed approaching the Eugene yard, we hop off well away from town, and chuckle at the bull just outside the yard watching the train. A five mile walk into town is a small price to pay for such a great trip.
I can't wait to do it again.
