(Hopping Freights Excerpt)

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Why do so many people love to ride freight trains? First off, when a freight train gets going, it gets going. And it doesn’t stop for much. In fact it doesn’t stop for anything unless the crew wants it to stop. Take a second look at your next freight train and think about trying to “stop” it. Good luck.

Trains are the complete master of their own terrain. Nobody tells a freight train what to do. Freight trains run on their own track by their own rules. When you pass through a town or cross a road, everything stops for you. Whole towns get cut in half by a freight train. When it comes to “The Boss” transportation-wise, freight trains are in the executive suite.

Riding the rails is a real kick in the pants. You get on board this huge, hulking amalgamation of metal weighing tons and tons and tons, then take off across the great American Wilderness. You get a feel of power and purpose. It’s like riding the back of a giant steel dragon lumbering across the land. You rock along in the metal cradle you’re riding. Enormous physical forces are at work: heat, light, sound, gravity, inertia, momentum and centrifugal force. Metal grinds, bends and heats as engines and cars pound over the track – tens of thousands of tons of massive material in motion. You sense the shifting rhythm and flow of travel – the rocking rhythm of metal blessed with speed. You tap your foot in rhythm to wheels which incessantly beat on the ribbons of steel – lullingly hypnotic, yet punctuated by staccato bursts of brilliant jointed-metal high point. The rattle, boom, bang of the big wheel pounding the rail is like two lovers’ impassioned kiss, repeated again and again with ardent fervor, and forgotten.

The smell of burnt diesel permeates your nostrils as you explode into a tunnel and light inks out. The wind rushes past with steady, ceaseless energy. The ground whizzes past and disappears in a blur. Faraway objects – signs, houses, fields and fences – march steadily toward you, loom up, then fly past as if compelled onward by a relentless earthbound conveyor belt. Vista upon vista approach, whirl past and disappear behind.

Nighttime has a special feel riding a freight train. It’s startling to roll through the darkness then burst into a city of light – a sudden explosion of dancing, piercing brilliance. The solitude borne of darkening distance is interrupted by fleeting imposition of light and shadow, followed again by return to the enveloping night. Almost a life metaphor: Where were we before (who can tell)? Where are we now (passing through light). Where will we get to (who can tell)?

Freight trains are also the best way to see America. You may have your doubts. In fact, I hope you do. One reason I present this subject is because I figure you have your doubts. That’s good. A healthy degree of skepticism never hurt anybody. Hang onto it as you continue reading.

Let’s jump right into it now and begin by taking a look at what you want to bring along with you on this odyssey.
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