The Old Hobo On The Train!

[Ghostwriter1983]

The Old Hobo On The Train!

After tossing my bright orange backpack inside the open boxcar, I climbed inside and sat down on a piece of cardboard, and waited. I didn't know the freight trains destination, only that it was headed east. I was seventeen years old, and eager to see America. Those who ‘ride the rails’ are called hoboes. In truth, they are made up of ex-cons, drug addicts, runaways, the disabled, mentally impaired and those ‘married’ to their bottle.

As for me, I was 17 and just wanted to travel and this was the cheapest way to go. I brought a few clothes, a canteen, a tent, sleeping bag, a small cook stove and mess kit. At the age of 14, my parents sent me into a grocery store and when I came back out, they were gone. That was my introduction to the real world. Yes I was a still a bit bitter, but I adapted as best I could.

I slept where I could, did yard work or odd jobs when I could, and took what I needed if the opportunity was there. Maybe one day, I would have a steady job, a car and an apartment, but I knew that was sometime down the road. As my feet dangled over the side of the boxcar, I leaned out and saw the trainman headed my way. He was checking all the hose and couplings as I waved hi to him. He waved back and in a friendly voice, I asked, "How long until we'll be leaving?"

In a laid back, unhurried voice he replied, "Oh, maybe twenty minutes, trains headed toward Spokane." Spokane worked for me and I stood up, picked up my pack and walked over to a large piece of crumpled cardboard back in the corner. I tossed my backpack onto the cardboard and suddenly, an old man jumped to his feet, pushing the cardboard away and pulled a knife on me. I just about crapped my pants and I don't know who was more scared me or him?

I had no idea that he had been sleeping under the cardboard. It took a lot of reassurance from me for him to relax and put his knife away. When the old man finally did relax, his eyes took on a friendly look and taught me the do's and don'ts of ‘riding the rails’ which he said was sure to save my life one day. "Boy, I'm gonna give you some sound advice and I don't want you to forget it. Take it from someone who's been riding these freights nearly all his life.

I know firsthand how dangerous it can be." he said and he nodded. At that moment the train began to pull out and the box car gave a jerk and we almost fell to the floor. We sat down on the sheet of cardboard as the train made its way out of the train yard. "Stay to yourself boy and if anyone asks you if ya got smokes, money or something to eat or drink, tell them no, whether ya have some or not.

If someone tells ya to give’m your pack or sleeping bag, and they look mean or have a knife or something, it ain't worth it kid, give it to them. Nothing's worth your life." he told me and I nodded. "Oh, by the way, my name's Ernie." He said with a grin and he held out his hand. I hesitated before shaking his hand and his eyes sparkled with laughter. "Now you're catching on Raymond.

Best bet is not to trust anyone. Most of those who ride the rails will just as soon slit your throat as give ya the time of day." he told me. As the train rocked back and forth, lurching, keeping us both off balance, Ernie told me everything about himself and hoping freights. In comparison to me, Ernie was in his sixties, a thin, tall man, with holes in the soles of his shoes, with newspaper sticking out.

His shirt and pants were tattered from not having seen a washing machine in longer then I wanted to think. He had deep blue eyes, eyes filled with wisdom. I felt guilty that even with as little as I had in my backpack; I had far more than he. "It's going to be a long trip to Spokane, Ernie, I've got enough chow for both of us.” I said and I reached over to get out my stove and a pan to heat up a large can of beef stew, but Ernie shook his head and I saw sadness in his eyes.

I studied his expression with curiosity, because I was sure that he was as hungry as me, if not more. He looked away for the longest time in silence, until finally, he spoke. "I appreciate your kindness Raymond, but this old timer isn't hungry." and he waved his hand to me as if to say goodbye, and he vanished in a grey mist. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen.

He was there as real as I was and he, he just vanished. It was the spookiest thing that had ever happened to me. I had been talking to a ghost all that time and never knew it. I wondered how Ernie died. He was a kind man. The sort of guy I wish maybe I could have had for a dad.

©2004 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)