It had been a long wait but I was finally on an intermodal heading south out of Colton yards. The train passed a bright light by the side of the track up high. I thought at the time, "There could be a camera behind that light."
There was.
Moments later, I heard the dispatcher on my scanner instruct the engineers bluntly. "Stop the train."
“Is there a problem?” an engineer replied.
“Could be, we have to call Rambo.”
Rambo? Rambo! They were calling the bulls!!
I heaved my pack and bedroll up on to the side of the cradle. Even before the train halted, I had dropped them over the side--and jumped clear myself. Frantically, I hoisted the pack on my back. I had to get away from the train and out of the freight yards quickly. The problem was a six-foot fence that barred my escape. I could have climbed over but reckoned I just did not have the time. So I marched along the fence, praying there would be a hole or an easy way over it. Luckily there was.
A part of fence had been pushed down to form a shelf only four feet off from the ground. Quickly, I laid my stuff on this fence, then looked both ways along the freight train. No lights were yet in sight.
Perhaps I was over-reacting, I thought. Maybe the train had stopped for another reason. Rambo could be a car knocker. I clambered a freight car coupling, and checked the other side of the train. There was a vehicle parked next to the units, but maybe it was there for another reason - and not the police.
I returned to the fence side, wondering whether to get back on the freight train. However, looking up along the train soon rid me of that notion. A vehicle was heading my way fast with headlights on full beam!
Backing off to one side under cover of trees, I made certain I was not in the headlights' beams and trotted along the side of the fence.
I was over that fence like the leading horse in a race. I grabbed my pack and bed roll and ducked down behind some bushes. Sure enough, the vehicle was full of yard bulls - three of them. They went straight to the freight car I had occupied and jumped up the ladder holding powerful hand searchlights. They must have been surprised I was not there. They quickly climbed up on the next freight car.
Delighted, I watched them from the safety of the other of the other side of the fence as the three of them ran around like idiots trying to find me. I was hidden on the side of the freeway near two parked trucks. I was now a hitch-hiker if anyone asked . . .
Eventually the freight train eased forward. I speculated about jumping back on, but the yard bulls were still scurrying around, shining their torches in bushes near the track.
I began moving up the road giggling to myself. Union Pacific’s finest started searching the freight train parked on the next track.
I had missed the freight train but what fun it had been to miss it! The time was 9:30. I did not want to ruin a good night by trying for another train and being caught. I wanted to go to sleep with a smile on my face. I bought a small bottle of brandy in a liquour store nearby, and bedded down on spare land among trees and bushes. The scanner had saved me. Without it I would have been caught for sure, and those aggressive yard bulls would probably have jailed me.
I sipped the brandy, recalling the scene in the freight yards as the bulls ran around like the Keystone Cops.
I caught out next morning carefully without being seen.
And withoutatrace.
Withoutrace
There was.
Moments later, I heard the dispatcher on my scanner instruct the engineers bluntly. "Stop the train."
“Is there a problem?” an engineer replied.
“Could be, we have to call Rambo.”
Rambo? Rambo! They were calling the bulls!!
I heaved my pack and bedroll up on to the side of the cradle. Even before the train halted, I had dropped them over the side--and jumped clear myself. Frantically, I hoisted the pack on my back. I had to get away from the train and out of the freight yards quickly. The problem was a six-foot fence that barred my escape. I could have climbed over but reckoned I just did not have the time. So I marched along the fence, praying there would be a hole or an easy way over it. Luckily there was.
A part of fence had been pushed down to form a shelf only four feet off from the ground. Quickly, I laid my stuff on this fence, then looked both ways along the freight train. No lights were yet in sight.
Perhaps I was over-reacting, I thought. Maybe the train had stopped for another reason. Rambo could be a car knocker. I clambered a freight car coupling, and checked the other side of the train. There was a vehicle parked next to the units, but maybe it was there for another reason - and not the police.
I returned to the fence side, wondering whether to get back on the freight train. However, looking up along the train soon rid me of that notion. A vehicle was heading my way fast with headlights on full beam!
Backing off to one side under cover of trees, I made certain I was not in the headlights' beams and trotted along the side of the fence.
I was over that fence like the leading horse in a race. I grabbed my pack and bed roll and ducked down behind some bushes. Sure enough, the vehicle was full of yard bulls - three of them. They went straight to the freight car I had occupied and jumped up the ladder holding powerful hand searchlights. They must have been surprised I was not there. They quickly climbed up on the next freight car.
Delighted, I watched them from the safety of the other of the other side of the fence as the three of them ran around like idiots trying to find me. I was hidden on the side of the freeway near two parked trucks. I was now a hitch-hiker if anyone asked . . .
Eventually the freight train eased forward. I speculated about jumping back on, but the yard bulls were still scurrying around, shining their torches in bushes near the track.
I began moving up the road giggling to myself. Union Pacific’s finest started searching the freight train parked on the next track.
I had missed the freight train but what fun it had been to miss it! The time was 9:30. I did not want to ruin a good night by trying for another train and being caught. I wanted to go to sleep with a smile on my face. I bought a small bottle of brandy in a liquour store nearby, and bedded down on spare land among trees and bushes. The scanner had saved me. Without it I would have been caught for sure, and those aggressive yard bulls would probably have jailed me.
I sipped the brandy, recalling the scene in the freight yards as the bulls ran around like the Keystone Cops.
I caught out next morning carefully without being seen.
And withoutatrace.
Withoutrace
