When I was growing up…me and my gang use to jump trains for kicks. We had a rail line that ran from the other side of the hill to who knew where. I missed a few…got aboard most…never fell onto the tracks under the wheels…but I consider myself lucky.
So, we jumped a slow moving one, and it increased its speed. No way to jump off or bail out without busting our asses. We had no idea where we were going, so we just smoked stolen cigarettes and looked for anything familiar. We were about ten or twelve or fourteen years of age, and had never really thought about where it went and how to get off the damn thing when it got up to speed. We always jumped off immediately. This time, it was moving too fast to jump. Don’t get me wrong…I would’ve jumped if I had to, but we decided we’d just ride it out, and see what happens. Well, me and my Hobo buddies were in for the duration (until it slowed or stopped), and we knew we were going to be in some trouble with our parents, but we basically said, WTF…nothing we can do about it. How will we get home?
A couple of hours later, it stopped at a small station. We jumped. We had no idea where we were, but we had some coins and there was a phone booth. I called home, and believe it or not, my mother was not pissed, she just wanted to know where we were, so she could come and collect our young asses. Well, there was a sign above the station…I said this is what it says…hell, I could read. She told me to stay where I was…she was on the way. I thought to myself, I’m in some deep shit now. Me and my gang spent the rest of the coins in a coke machine.
My Mom collected us and never said a cross word. She understood we were “just exploring” (as she put it), but from that day forward she always ensured I had some pocket change. My Dad made me tell the story, blow by blow, many times. To be honest, I think he was proud of us. He basically told me to always watch my back. I will never forget that advice.
All was good.
Earlier, when my mother told my father what happened, he said all is good. I moved up a notch in his eyes that day. That day changed (for the better) the relationship between me and my parents.
Having said this…years later when I had to call him to bail me out of jail…he was pissed.
It is what it was, and I’m still a boy dog.
5 Comments
We did the same thing in Savannah Ga, ended up in small towns about 60 miles from home. But we would always make it back, my Mama would have killed me with that belt
You are a man after my own heart. Ya think we could do it again? Jump a train, that is.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
I used to go traipsing all over the back mountains when I was about 8 or 9 back in Puerto Rico. My parents never knew. If they had, I wouldn’t be here today…
Miss Aggie, I’m glad you never got caught. I love Puerto Rico…I should tell some stories about my visits. Well, maybe not. Anyway, it is a great latitude.
You guys were gutsy at 10-12-14. Glad you didn’t get hurt or killed.
A friend and I hopped a freight on a rail spur loading bulk tobacco in our first year of college. We were inspired by the blues songs we’d heard. The train stopped in Lake City, Fla. and they discovered us when they were about to fill our empty boxcar. The yardbull told us that the next stop for the train was Tampa, and he was holding us for arrest. We ran off and caught the Greyhound back to college.
It was fun.
Thanks for the story.