Roleplay as Therapy - part 2

Catching a pig train out of this yard can be tricky sometimes. There was a period when the trains were quite long and pulled out slowly, allowing the engines time to get far away before I had to make a banzai run out to the tracks to jump on. At some point, they would pull the front half out, then backup to get the rear portion. Then there were times when they would leave with as little as a dozen or so cars, picking up more when they reached Stockton, about a two-hour ride east. Once I ran out and jumped on a car, and just as I was getting comfortable, the train stopped and started to back down into the yard, so I had to jump off and retreat to the bushes to wait for him to pull out again. Another time I saw a short train coming out of the yard, and thinking that he would stop and back up to pick up the rear half, I sat back down, only to see the train accelerate — it was just a short train that night and I had to jump up and run like Hell to barely get aboard the last car, which naturally had the trailers facing the wrong direction. With these thoughts in my mind, I was reluctant to spread out my gear, so I just sat on my pack and waited.

Sipping wine and looking around my "domain" I saw a sprinkler head just a few feet away from me and fervently hoped that the sprinklers weren't on a timer that would turn them on any time soon. Looking under some bushes at my side I found an empty beer can, proof that this spot had been used in the past as a departure point for lands unknown, and I cut a hole in the top with my knife and placed the can upside down over the sprinkler, adding a nearby rock for weight. If they did come on at least I would have a few seconds to grab my gear and leave before getting soaked. From the sorry appearance of the shrubbery in general it didn't look like I'd have anything to worry about, as the surrounding soil was dry as a bone.

The downside to this spot was my discovery that it had also been used as a bathroom, and judging from the lingering odor probably on a regular basis. It was, however, the only place within a long stretch of shrubbery growing along a chain link fence bordering the tracks that had a gap large enough to hide a person and their gear — all the other bushes were growing too close together. I made a mental note to include a pair of snippers on my next trip so that I could make all sorts of custom cubby-holes in otherwise impenetrable bushes. It reminded me of a place in Eugene, OR where someone had burrowed into a blackberry patch and pruned out a nice spot large enough for two people to sleep in, with only a small entrance hole to give it away. Another spot was in the "B" yard in Vancouver, WA, which hid a much larger encampment.

With one bottle of White Port "down the hatch" I had to resist the temptation to roll out and take a nap, which proved to be a wise decision as shortly I heard engines approach from the bowels of the yard and reverse direction onto a distant string of cars. I figured that this was a good time to pee and gather up my stuff, and in maybe 10 or 15 minutes the headlights were on and my train began to pull out of the yard. Keeping out of sight until the engines went by, I figured from the speed the train was going that it wouldn't be stopping to back up, so I bolted out and picked a nice set of trailers facing the "right" way and climbed aboard after a brief sprint.

Unfortunately it wasn't time to roll out yet, as in a few blocks we'd be going right down along the street in Jack London Square, with lots of people and cars on both sides, so I shoved my pack up on top of one of the trailer axles and crammed myself atop the other one until we were clear of the sudden influx of humanity. Finally I slid down, pulled my pack over and made a nice seat out of my folded over air mattress. I figured I'd just sit up until we got to Stockton to see if we picked up any more cars, as I was riding pretty close to the head end. Toasting a clear, star-filled sky with another bottle of wine, I watched midnight come and go as I sped along the curves over Altamont Pass, then it was down into the boring Central Valley and Stockton.

We dynamited as soon as we stopped, telling me that there were other cars to pick up, so I hopped down to see if there were any more desirable rides being added. There were — a long string of empty autoracks sat on a nearby track, and hearing the air coming from them told me that those were being picked up by my train. I grabbed a ladder and swung around inside, then walked over to the middle of the car and rolled out my gear again — this time inflating my air mattress and placing it on my precious chunk of cardboard, then rolling out my sleeping bag, positioning the flashlight and water bottle, and otherwise getting ready for a real sleep, as it was now almost 3am and at this pace I could wake up in the morning going up the Feather River Canyon, then across Nevada and into Utah, where I'd turn around and head back, having taken a couple thousand mile "vacation" for just bus and BART fare.