Riding The Rails Without The Drama

Among the more interesting misadventures of my youth was hopping freights from Montana to St. Paul.  It's the subject of a short story I'm working on and the idea was one of my more foolhardy decisions.

I come from a part of the country where they have an annual Hobo Festival and I've had the opportunity to meet and write stories about former "Kings" and "Queens" of the hobos crowned at that Iowa event.  Let's just say they're all a colorful lot, a few quite clever and some not rowing with both oars.  Some were authentic hobos - like Pasco Slim and Reno Blackey - but it seemed to me there were also a share of likely successful businessmen with Walter Mitty imaginations and annual acting performances - like Muscatel Mike and Sundance.  Real or fake, they all made hopping freights sound romantic and adventuresome.

Then I found a photo book on hobos and tramps that also praised riding freight trains as the true way of wandering.  A line that got me: "Once you've pissed out of an open boxcar, you're hooked."

So I did it with a pal and in summary, it was a dirty, dangerous and painful experience.  Along the way, strange characters with thousand-yard stares asking to hop in our wooden boxcar were rudely turned away in language to suit the occasion.  I'd read about cut throats on the rails, too.  I don't want to tell the entire story here, but I will admit that it is nearly impossible to pee from an open boxcar.  The motion, the vibrations and swirling dust make most everything miserable.

To break the boredom, we worked out a little dance routine and when the highway paralleled the tracks in North Dakota we performed for families running alongside.  Parents, worried what might be exposed from a freight train, tried to get their kids not to look, but we were rewarded with big grins and what appeared to be applause.  Then parents began to wave.

We made it - seriously bruised and coated with layers of heavy dust - awakened from a much-needed nap by a railroad detective in St. Paul who was surprised at our ability to explain and apologize for such a naive and illegal stunt.  We meant it when we said we'd never try it again.

I mention this because decades later I am about to ride the rails again.  This time I'll be with my wife and in a sleeper with two beds, our own shower and a real toilet.   None of that open boxcar stuff for this old gent, but I'll give a report on Amtrak's Empire Builder from Portland to Chicago soon.