Dameon
Well-known member
I was getting on a southbound train from Portland when I saw two other people getting on the same train. I waved as they passed, and grabbed a grainer further down, tucking myself into the cubbyhole. It wasn't long before the train stopped in Brooklyn yard and we had a chance for some conversation. Turned out the guy and girl were also going to the bay area, and were interested in traveling there together. This was the start of one of the worst traveling groups ever.
Things went smoothly on the ride to Eugene. We sat on our separate grainers, and when the train occasionally stopped I'd walk up to their car for conversation. In Eugene, we grabbed a nice open boxcar going the rest of the way to Roseville. The ride through the Cascades was equally smooth, if a bit cold. Then things started going bad.
The other guy proposed getting on one of the rear units during the crew change in Dunsmuir, since the girl was short and would have real trouble getting off the boxcar in the fly before Roseville, and he was set on getting off at 10 mph before we hit the yard. I was against it, because I really don't like the idea of pissing off the engineer because he catches us in a unit, but I was outvoted. I should have stayed on the boxcar.
Our train stops in a little town a bit north of Roseville, and the guy decides we should hide in the engine room (don't do that unless you want to get electrocuted). He opens the door, and there's a bar about halfway up the doorway, which he says he's never seen before. He promptly attempts to move the bar, and an alarm starts blaring. Of course, there's absolutely nowhere near the train to hide. We go to the other unit and cram all three of us and our gear into the bathroom.
It's not long before the engineer comes in and yells "Come on out! The police are on their way!" We come out and ask "Really?"
"Nah," he says. But he is pissed about the alarm going off on one of his units. Turns out there's work up ahead on the tracks, and the train won't be moving until late evening. I say we should just hitch, because we're only about 100 miles from Roseville or Sacramento. We walk the four miles to highway 99 and stick our thumbs out.
They give it a whole hour before the guy says "I'm going back to the train. I don't hitchike, I ride trains." So we walk the four miles back to the train and sit there waiting for four hours until it starts moving. I should have stayed behind and hitched.
So we're back on our unit, a couple of hours later, and approaching Roseville. We're all looking out the windows to try and spot a mile marker, when I hear the horn blaring. "That's odd," I think. "They don't normally just lean on the horn like that." Then I get a horrible thought and look at the other two. The girl is leaning against one of the dashboards right where the horn button is, and she has been for about 15 seconds.
"You're leaning on the fucking horn!" I shout. Not that it matters now; the engineer surely knows we're here and is definitely letting the bulls in Roseville know we're here. The next 20 minutes consists of staring at the speedometer and praying it drops down to a speed we can get off of, as we get closer and closer to the Roseville yard. Finally, only a couple of miles out, it gets down to 15 mph. We ditch the train and run like hell and hide a bit away from the tracks.
The next day, they ditch me, which was a huge favor to me considering they used up a good $60 on my EBT card and fucked up every single step of the way.
The moral of the story: Don't ride units unless you'll die otherwise, and don't travel with people just because they're going the same way as you.
Things went smoothly on the ride to Eugene. We sat on our separate grainers, and when the train occasionally stopped I'd walk up to their car for conversation. In Eugene, we grabbed a nice open boxcar going the rest of the way to Roseville. The ride through the Cascades was equally smooth, if a bit cold. Then things started going bad.
The other guy proposed getting on one of the rear units during the crew change in Dunsmuir, since the girl was short and would have real trouble getting off the boxcar in the fly before Roseville, and he was set on getting off at 10 mph before we hit the yard. I was against it, because I really don't like the idea of pissing off the engineer because he catches us in a unit, but I was outvoted. I should have stayed on the boxcar.
Our train stops in a little town a bit north of Roseville, and the guy decides we should hide in the engine room (don't do that unless you want to get electrocuted). He opens the door, and there's a bar about halfway up the doorway, which he says he's never seen before. He promptly attempts to move the bar, and an alarm starts blaring. Of course, there's absolutely nowhere near the train to hide. We go to the other unit and cram all three of us and our gear into the bathroom.
It's not long before the engineer comes in and yells "Come on out! The police are on their way!" We come out and ask "Really?"
"Nah," he says. But he is pissed about the alarm going off on one of his units. Turns out there's work up ahead on the tracks, and the train won't be moving until late evening. I say we should just hitch, because we're only about 100 miles from Roseville or Sacramento. We walk the four miles to highway 99 and stick our thumbs out.
They give it a whole hour before the guy says "I'm going back to the train. I don't hitchike, I ride trains." So we walk the four miles back to the train and sit there waiting for four hours until it starts moving. I should have stayed behind and hitched.
So we're back on our unit, a couple of hours later, and approaching Roseville. We're all looking out the windows to try and spot a mile marker, when I hear the horn blaring. "That's odd," I think. "They don't normally just lean on the horn like that." Then I get a horrible thought and look at the other two. The girl is leaning against one of the dashboards right where the horn button is, and she has been for about 15 seconds.
"You're leaning on the fucking horn!" I shout. Not that it matters now; the engineer surely knows we're here and is definitely letting the bulls in Roseville know we're here. The next 20 minutes consists of staring at the speedometer and praying it drops down to a speed we can get off of, as we get closer and closer to the Roseville yard. Finally, only a couple of miles out, it gets down to 15 mph. We ditch the train and run like hell and hide a bit away from the tracks.
The next day, they ditch me, which was a huge favor to me considering they used up a good $60 on my EBT card and fucked up every single step of the way.
The moral of the story: Don't ride units unless you'll die otherwise, and don't travel with people just because they're going the same way as you.
