Water and cardboard procured, I squeeze under the fence behind an obnoxious and too-bright big box store. Happily, my train sat there waiting for me, having taken the unusual step of pulling up on a siding, instead of leaving from deep in the Desert yard. Suits me just fine, I think as I start to walk the string. Even though it feels more exposed, I’m sure few of the yuppies shopping at overpriced chain stores nearby even think about the tracks, much less look at a figure with a backpack pacing the train in the dark.
And pacing I do. Car after unrideable car, a long string of baretables, autoracks, shut and sealed boxes. I get as close to the Amtrak station as I dare, try to look ahead to see if anything appears promising, curse, and walk back the way I came. Looks like no rides tonight. 3 or so miles of walking later, I almost, *almost* have second thoughts about going out and dancing my tits off last night. I sit down, sore, as a suicide grainer taunts from the very end of the train, the FRED’s whine seemingly taunting like the laughter of a tiny mechanical goblin. Wondering what to do next, I look at the ARMN reefer for the 3rd time. I know they have a little cubby on one end, but it always felt too exposed. I climb on anyway, feeling better about it. Inspiration strikes, and I climb back down, and find a scrap piece of plywood, which I wedge in the open space on the side of the cubby. Fuck it, this will work. If I keep my head down, at least people can’t immediately see me. I lay out my bag in preparation of the expected windy ride.
1AM, rolling into Roseville. Not too bad, especially after stopping in Richmond for like 2 hours. My plan: Get off this train and onto another junker heading north without having to deal with all the obnoxious new fencing they put up. And as always, the less time spent in Roseville, the better. The train slows to 10 MPH, and keeps doing that well into the yard, despite my hopes that it will go slowly enough to safely dismount. I think I spy the departure yard from across strings, and as the lights approach I toss my cardboard, water, and pack, and unceremoniously bail off the reefer, ready for the inertia to take me to the ground, which it does. New hole to patch in my duds.
I gather up my stuff and survey my surroundings. Between strings in the arrival yard, but well south of where I’d hoped. Only one thing to do now. I walk between strings until they disappear, leaving a small shed, and 100 feet of open space between me and the empty departure yard. Well dammit. I book it to the relative “cover” of the brightly let shed. All quiet so far. I peer my head around the corner of the shed and see a pair of headlights pointed directly at me. Crapcrapcrap. Too late to head back, I think of what to do. Only one choice, I suppose. I peer around the corner and the truck hasn’t moved. I keep the shed between the truck and I, and hustle to a shadowy spot of the open space, and then book it across as fast as I can. No one gives chase, or notice. I see a fred blinking in the distance, and start hiking.
Almost to that fred, and the incredibly bright light of a train behind me keep getting brighter, I start to jog for the cover that the train will provide, when I see the bullmobile spotlighting a string a few tracks over. Oh damn! I cross over some more tracks, trying to put some distance between the bullmobile and I, and keep walking fast. Nothing else I can do. We pass each other and he makes no indication he saw me. Was that possible? Attention fixed on the train next to him, and night vision wrecked by the spotlight, just maybe. I walk along the obviously northbound train, empty centerbeam after empty centerbeam, hiding behind wheels and crossing the string when I see lights get too close. I still dunno if that bull saw me, and don’t want to find out. Soon enough I get to one of my favorite stealthy rides, a “double barrel” grainer, as I call them. No porch, but 2 small holes in each end leading to 2 roomy cubbies, connected by the same size hole. Perfect for hiding. I squeeze my cardboard, pack, and myself in. I can find a better ride later, but for now this feels perfect. Time for a nap.
I doze in and out of sleep until Dunsmuir, gladly hopping off to stretch and to see if I can find a nicer ride. Those grainers work great to hide in, but suck for enjoying scenery. No luck. I find out I’m pretty close to the front of the train, and get about 3 cars ahead of mine before all of Dunsmuir can see me. Like 2 minutes after the train stops I hear it air up again, so back I go, watching scenery as best as I can. In no time flat, K falls comes into view, and I hide as best I can, sneaking in views of the sunset while waiting to leave.
Darkness falls, and so does rain. I tuck far into my cubby, jerry rigging a piece of the cardboard into the hole to mostly block the rain. Once night falls, one has little to do on a train but think and sleep, so I doze intermittently. A stinging feeling on my face awakes me at one point, and I discover my cardboard has become ajar and snow is coming in. I take awhile to appreciate the beauty, try to get pix (which don’t come out), fix my now-soaked storm door, and fall back asleep.
Eugene, I think around 2AM. The rest of the yard looks empty, and we’ve stopped on the 2nd main, so I assume we’ll pull soon. I drink water, snack, pee, stretch a bit, happy to spend time out of my cubby. Too much time passes, and I fall to sleep again. I awake for good with the dawn coming up, and we still haven’t moved, and the yard remains empty. I grumble to myself and go back to napping. A train or two passes, heading SBD, I spottily nap and wonder what’s taking so long. Eventually another Northbound pulls slowly up, on the other side of the yard. I watch for rides, and a bunch of full centerbeams with “Roseburg” stenciled on the sides tells me that I don’t want that train. A few minutes later, my train finally pulls out! Time for breakfast and getting comfy. Soon enough we stop by Brooklyn yard for clearance, and I bail there to see friends nearby. ^_^
