I've been researching freighthopping. It's a classic case of ignorance is bliss.Turns out there's a gang of criminals called the Freight Train Riders of America who organize meth trafficking via the rails, and they operate out of the Northwest. I remember speaking with a few conductors about such an outfit.
I'm going to Chicago today to do some interviews. I feel totatlly depressed about this new information, because I'm too afraid of being stabbed to become the kind of adventurer who rides the rails and hangs out in Hobo Jungles cooking up Mulligan Stew with Oklahoma Slim and Kentucky Coin Slot Jenkins. What if they trick me into revealing that my favorite food is Unagi Eel or that I failed woodshop? What if they ask me to perform a humiliating sexual act a la Deliverance (i'm not sure permission would be a part of that) or we get into a high stakes game of Gin Rummy?
But how I am going to have an adventure with risk of death? This is very disconcerting. It's affecting my stomach quite adversely. and it's making my beard itch.
3 comments:
Don't die, Bobu!
(or Writer!)
It has already been established that you are indeed a strong and courageous individual.(Would use the word"man",but,I honestly do not want to get carried away.) Your showdown with Chubb is a case in point. You fought for your right to have more cream cheese for your toasted bagel, which I might add was getting colder and harded by the minute. Men have
been killed for and died for much less. You can take on the drug runners,damnit. Remember the immortal words of Fio ,"Get on the train."
I have read up on the train hopping thing as well. As much as I want to be that type of person and live that type of adventure, I too am frightened of humanity. It is not the 1000s of tons of steel that cares me, but a uncertainty of an American subcultures respect for my yuppie life mixed with being a greenhead.
BUT, if we see an open car I am whipping out the camera and running towards it at full blast.
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