Walking to New Orleans

The summer of 95 was marred by lost love, epilepsy, and a lost drivers license. I wasn't going though another northeastern winter, not after that.

I socked away a weeks pay in Connecticut, I packed my bag and stuck out my thumb. The rides were rare and short, and I did a lot of walking. So much walking.

A man picking apples in his yard lifted my mood when he gave me one and said, "There are enough apples for the people and the animals!" I walked along eating my apple, and considering the good omen, maybe it is a kind and benevolent universe, with plenty for all.

When I got to Albany I found the train yard and spiked the door of my boxcar. (If the door slides shut, a boxcar can become a rolling tomb) My train finally pulled out, and I was surging across the landscape, cutting towns in half, through fields and forests, leaving everything behind.  A freight train stops for nothing, a welcome contrast to my hitch-hiking stint.

The day faded to night, wake and sleep wrap around each other, and you become another clunking swaying part of the train.

I was awakened by stillness and quiet in the dark. I poked my head out the door, and found myself in a rail yard. I hopped down onto the crunch of the gravel, shouldered my pack, and started walking. I wasn't ready for walking again, not so soon. My feet ached, and I had blisters.  I made my way between the rows of train cars, far above me the lights buzzed atop their poles. Corralled by chain link, and with nothing to get to on the other side, I followed the rails. There were no people. I finally extracted myself from the deserted netherworld of rail shipping, and staggered along the side of a highway. Cars raced by, and I wondered if there were people in them. I still had no idea where I was, or which direction I should be going, so I kept on walking.

I don't remember how I found out that I was in Syracuse NY, but I do remember the collect call I made to my mother.

"Uh, it didn't work, my feet hurt really bad, and I am in Syracuse, can you come get me?"

An hour later I was riding home in my mothers car. I stayed there, eating whole grains and letting my feet heal for a week, before catching a bus to see see my sister in Minneapolis, and then successfully hitchhiking to new Orleans. Never hitchhike within 200 miles of your home town, you will never escape it's gravitational pull.