It was already 22:00 Sunday evening, when he dropped me at the yards. I didn´t expect to catch anything, because Sunday´s are usually not pleased with a lot of trains. I prepared myself for a long, cold night. The yard was known for its Bull and I prefered therefore to hop in the darkness. I nestled myself in one of the grounded cars and smoked a cigarette.

To my suprise after 30 minutes there was a train incoming. Into my direction! Action time. Adrenalin entered my venes. This should be the first time, that I get on a car by myself, without company. The train was long and mostly composed of Pig-Trailers. Junk. Not to good to hop on, but anyway I was aiming the End-Unit. Before I would stop trainhopping, I wanted to catch a ride in an End-Unit! So I walked 5 minutes to the end of the train and was suprised again, because there was no End-Unit. Fuck. Gotta find another car fast then!

While searching a second train came in. Also in my direction. What an exciting night. First I thought a car with railroad workers came along the tracks, but then I saw it was actually a whole train. I had to hide myself, while he was passing into the yards. He stopped far away from me, seems like the priority train. I might be able to reach it. So I walked back. Again around 5 minutes. I saw some open box cars. Always wanted to ride in a box car, but they were bound to the wrong train. So I continued walking. Need to catch the priority train!

Finally I reached the train. I could walk between the wagons in good cover. Nobody would ever see me here. Most of the cars were junk again and not possible to ride with. While checking the cars, suddenly I heard steps. Railroad workers! Maybe they are inspecting the train…..I stand rooted to the ground. Scared! If they find me, I might have a big problem. I had to merge with the darkness and become a Ninja! Quietly I waited on my position. Again some steps. Voices. Someone is talking somewhere. But it was not coming from the tracks….

In front of me was a Gondola. Such a beautiful car. The voices seemed to came out of there. Can only be a bunch of trainhoppers! I climbed across the edge of the car and looked inside. Some Boyz sitting in there! Three Hobos, who looked like coming from a Steampunk-Convention and in between a 50 pound heavy dog: „Still a puppey!“. They were shocked in the first moment, when I looked into the car. „Hey guys, do you have some space for me?“. Feeling of relief came up. „Yes, yes of course!“. One of them immediatley jumped towards me, to help with my luggage. As soon as I was in the car the first command came: „Down!“ Stay safe and hide.

We started chatting. The three boyz stucked in that town for one whole week already. No clue how the fuck they could not manage to catch out anything in one week, as the UP runs daily through that yard. Somehow they really fucked it up. I gave them some cigarettes which we were not supposed to smoke until the train would roll („Somebody could see the smoke!“). They shared their beer with me, we had some stuff to smoke. The ride promised to be entertaining (and cold). I mean, Gondolas are in general the best cars to have a nice party in!

I can not remember any of the boyz names, but I know that at least one of them was already in jail because of Trainhopping and he would get into serious trouble, if they catch him again. Lucky us they had a cellphone to call in the cars. Unfortunately only crap came out of this investigation. Okay. Only northbound from here. Can not be so bad. We took place on top of the load of the Gondola. It was a bunch of concrete sheets. You should never ever sit in between the wagon and the load.

The train was starting. It was the most brutal drive I ever experienced. You could hear the cracking clutches from the front of the train long before we actually moved. klack, Klack, KLack, KLAck, KLACk, KLACK. This bloodcurdling sound which came closer and closer till it finally broke away our Gondola, with a huge bang like during an explosion. Jerkily we started moving. Rad experience. Trains are brutal.

The night promised wonderful starry sky. I didn´t took any effort to look out of the car. My enthusiasm for scenery was not very big anymore. I rather wanted to survive this ride. sleeping pad and sleeping bag packed out, I used some 5000-mile paper to construct some warm box for my feet. Then just wrap yourself as good as possible against the cold and steady airstream. The Gondola produced heavy vibrations. Left-ride, forth and back as sensitive as an Ogre who lulls a baby into sleep. It was a very uncomftable ride.

In the middle of the night some of the guys tipped on my shoulder. If I had a cigarette? Sure. He said, he has something to trade. I gave him a cigarette and he gave me something small and flat. „What is this?“ „Acoin.“ I couldn´t understand. „Is it acid? Drugs?“ Don´t know why I thought that. Maybe wishful thinking. „No, a coin.“ „What is this?“ „It is an old Gipsy currency. Not used so much anymore.“ Indeed it was a coin. Now I understood. I found that a pretty cool thing and was really happy about this gift. I really like that Hobo-Subculture.

Around sunrise it tipped on my shoulders again. Somehow I manage to sleep within the ice-cold breeze and the constant shaking of the car. „Dude, we are at our destination. We packed our stuff already. Next stop will be yours. Just stay on the train.“ The three where ready to go. I gave another round of cigarettes and asked if I can take a photo. The train stopped roughly. The boyz went down quickly. Suddenly the Air-Break pumped again. There was still pressure on the hoses.

The poor dog, who was so nervous all the time, started to cry. „Quiet!“, he got a little clap from his owner. The dog was lifted on the edge of the car and jumped down from 4m height. Looked unhealthy. The same moment the train started to roll with a heavy jerk. The last of my new friends was still sitting on the edge and had to hold on the car, not to fall down. Boyz boyz, what are you doing here? Dangerous life. Then they disappeared. I crambled my stuff together and hide. We were rolling into the yard and stopped. Crew Change. I observed the periphery cautious.

I was waiting for two hours. Then I realized slowly, that we might not be on the main tracks but in the middle of the yards. My train would not continue. Shit. It was daytime and I had to get off that train. To the nearest road was about 150m away and in between were around 4 trains to overcome. One of them recently came in. The yards were busy. Everywhere railroad workers drove around with machines and cars. And a bull for sure.

This would be another catwalk. Not what I wanted to do, but no choice. I climbed out of my car. Running to the first train. Climbing through the car. Observing the yard. Jumping on the next train. A Pick-Up was coming. Fucking shit. Had to hide! Hope they did not see me. Got some cover on the side of the car. It passed by. I went on. Just the train left that just came into the yards. Usually you shouldn´t climb through trains at all, but walk around. And especially never climb through trains which are not grounded and could continue every second! Anyway, I was in the middle of the fucking yards. I waited 2-3 minutes and observed that train. It didn´t move. I had to give it a try to get out of this shit.

Running towards the train. Couldn´t hear any Air-Break. Climbing on the train and try to get ot the other side as fast as possible. Hopefully it won´t start right now. Jumping off. Done! I went to the street and took rest in the first bush I found. What a morning… I did not expect this yard run. Usually you get off the train, before it is grounded in the middle of the shit. Lucky me nothing happened. Every little conflict with the law could have fucked up my whole visa process. I decided not to hop any trains after that. Enough learned. Enough seen.

The whole trainhopping experience was hell of a blast. I never felt more in America than during the time on the freight trains. In general it is not comparable with hitchhiking. Different technique. Different life-style. Different feeling. One of the „last red-blooded adventures in America“, wrote Duffy Littlejohn. I will be back for a more intense trainhopping time. Better prepared. With some technical equipment. More intrigued. Riding the most beautiful routes in North America. Because I just wanna enjoy the show on the road, while riding some freights. It is pure passion. Highball!

Der Beitrag Trainhopping – The Boyz in the Gondola erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Roy had researched the CrewChange information. There should be a hole in the walls through which you can get into the area. There was no hole. We had to find another way. There were two fences that we could climb alternatively. “They are very low there”, Roy said. Climbing fences is also more stylish that crawling through holes. “More style” had also a group of punks that we observed later as they stubbornly ran straight over the rails with their dogs. Amidst the floodlight of the train station. Seemed to work.

As we were talking about further plans I saw a car patrolling. “Down!” I barked towards Roy. Instantly we dived into the high grass. Security was around. Stay low and don’t be spotted. The car stopped 70m next to us, turned slowly and drove away. “Good call.” Roy said appreciatively. Time to get towards the Hop-Out. It was getting to hot here. We sneaked over some dead tracks arriving at the first fence that was already “prepared” by some train hoppers and easy to surpass. Again running over the tracks, another fence, a train rings out. Something is starting towards us. Bad timing, now fast! We jumped down a descent of coarse gravel arriving at the edge of a huge yard. Between us and the rail tracks was nothing promising to hide. About 700m of long, flat and untilled meadow, illuminated by huge floodlight lamps. In the middle of the meadow there was an unused tower with stacked pallets. That was the Hop-Out.

To my surprise the grass was high, reaching up to my bellybutton and provided excellent cover. Crouching we arrived safely at the tower. I had heard of that spot from other hoppers but never imagined what a beautiful spot that was. Besides the tower a stack of pallets was arranged in a way so that inside there was kind of a house with a sleeping surface for 4-6 persons. The grass had a flattened place. You know, like if you enter a cornfield as a child creating a bed at the expense of the farmers’ harvest. That was how this Hop-Out was like. Perfect cover, no (normal) human would ever come to that place and we had perfect sight on the tracks and any arriving train. Through the high grass you could perfectly sneak towards the cars.

We waited for our train, laying down a little. The stars were shining above. The moon hadn’t risen yet. I smoked a cigarette and Roy fell asleep. The Air cooled down but my new leather jacket gave me motherly warmth. An incredible night at a beautiful spot. At some point I also fell asleep. “Stefan!” Roy startled me out of my sleep. A train was arriving. The same short IM I had seen the night before. Definitely a Hot-Shot, but actually I didn’t want to hop that one. Roy was like: “We can do that.” Quickly we packed our stuff, back to ninja mode. “Keep yourself low!” I told Roy.

We went through the cars and found two that we could hop. But not together. There was not enough space. I squeezed under the footboard. Now we have to wait. The train started rolling. After 50m it stopped again. Waiting. I heard the Airbrake. Should be rolling soon again. Suddenly Roy came running: “Stefan, I think we shouldn’t do this! I checked the number and those containers are getting grounded in 5 hours!” What? No time to talk, speak straight. The train might start to roll at any second. Roy had phoned Tracey, the friendly computer voice that knows the goal of any wagon and container. A nice gimmick for professional hoppers.

As we ran back to the Hop-Out Roy was still on the phone checking another wagon at Tracey’s. “This one is going to South California! Let’s go back!” Ok, back onto the car. I was getting nervous. Again hiding, again waiting. And nothing happened. After 60 minutes several cars were cars came alongside the train. The personal disconnected the End-Unit. Very unusual. What was going on here? I watched the scenery and stayed at my spot. Usually a Crew-Change on an IM doesn’t take longer than 30 minutes. If even that long. And now the End-Unit got disconnected. My only chance was to stay down, not being spotted. If anything urgent, Roy would tell me. In the end we will have waited 3 hours for the train to start rolling.

Things I was told the day after. Roy was nervous. He had left the train running to the Front-Unit, checking it. As he was close he heard the airbrake. A pretty safe sign that the train is going to leave, rather suboptimal if your backpack is at the other end of the train. He was sprinting back as fast as possible. Trains can be long, sometimes longer that 1 km. At some time during his sprint, the Bull appeared checking the train with his car. Roy had to hide. Mega action, just to check the units because he didn’t trust Tracey. Still he made it and at around 4:30am we finally started rolling.

Our route was going straight through the salt lake desert. Close to the city boundary it was horribly stinking like rotten eggs but soon we were shooting into complete darkness straight through the salt lake. The track was unique. Only passable with the freight train. No road, no passenger train, just one track on a dam splitting the sea in half. To the left and right of us there was only water or dry salt surface. Above us an enormously clear starlit sky shining bright through the high plains. The crescent moon was rising, 2 days before the new moon. Still you could see the complete form of the trabant. It was rising behind the Rockies sweetening my already breathtaking view on my “double stack”. All together it was again a divine scenery. Train romance at its best.

I hadn’t eaten anything the whole evening because I had waited for that moment. Now I could open my supply bag. I had a can of tuna, dry bread, an apple and Chocolate-Cheesecake Cookies. Additionally Cigarettes and water. Warm wind was blowing. We passed a waiting train. Ha! We are the priority train and you are the pussies! I slipped into my jacket and sleeping bag and fell asleep.

The train is rocking you pretty much and it got pretty cold. My jacket was serving well but not my sleeping bag. Sunset. We had been rolling all night through. The first warm sunrays reached me and I tried to reanimate my frozen feet. At some point the second Crew Change. Before noon. Afterwards we rolled through the desert. The “double stack” had a pretty view but no sun cover. So I was sitting in the blazing sun with nothing to do. All day long. My gallon of water got warm, which was disgusting. But so did my can of ravioli, which was convenient.

A can of fish, two peers and several cookies later we rolled into our final destination after fabulous 16 hours. Usually this ride is supposed to take about 36 hours but we were on a really fast IM. Last exam was to get off the train safely. I had been warned several times about the destination. Many shady characters and cautious Bulls.

Additionally Officer Watson, the local Sheriff, with his pad at hand to give you a ticket for any wrongdoing. The whole train hopping thing was a game with fire for me anyway. I had to get a new US visa and if I got only a small fine somewhere my Alaska expedition would be cancelled. But that train hopping experience was definitely worth that. No guts, no glory.

We were rolling towards our goal. 50km prior to that, in the middle of nowhere a railroad crossing. Unaware of anything I sit on my car admiring the scenery. Suddenly an old man in front of me with a big camera. He spots me, I could see him twitching. He makes a nice picture of me. You can imagine how nervous I was for the last kilometers. If he was calling the cops on me? Will they catch us at the station? Tension. The train rolled into the yards. The brakes stop the huge steel monster.

Doesn’t even take 15 seconds. I was ready, everything packed. Roy jumped off his car and so did I. “Cut and run.” Two black dressed Trainkids. Covered in dirt we sprint in the twilight over the tracks. Reached the streets. Safety. Nobody had seen us. Mission accomplished. Up for a cold drink. Roy had been without water for the last 4 hours. And without shadow. We were both exhausted but so we were happy. 16 hours on the freight train. Like 16 hours in a cradle on a washing machine whilst a 7th grade earthquake is rampaging under your house. An awesome, wicked experience!

Der Beitrag Trainhopping – The Catwalk erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

While I was lying around inside the bushes an orange Pick-Up passes two times. At the third time it pulls left before my hideout and a man gets out. Stares towards me. Not sure if he had seen me. But he was staring into my direction for a long time. So that must be the Bull. Shit. I heard a lot about the bull, about his laziness, lack of education, his encroaching when finding a train hopper and how to avoid him. In this case I stayed down as if frozen. He wasn’t moving either. Minutes passed. After some time he got back into the car and drove off.

Fuck, the bull might have seen me. Maybe… but nobody can charge me for lying in the bushes. Anyway a bad start for my mission. It will be way more difficult to catch the train if people in the yards are informed. I went deeper into the bushes, found a small grassland. There I relaxed and killed mosquitos that were attacking me constantly. Hours passed. Waiting for the train. I found funny hobo-graffiti around me: “Ain’t no wrong train.” or “And you think you gonna catch out tonite?” Yes i think so. I was at the right place.

It took some time until the first train was arriving but the Bull was on the runway and also the train didn’t stop. No chance to catch the train on the run. I flattened out my cardboard and tried to sleep within the mosquito swarm. I was really impressed by the cardboard. It kept me warm from the ground, very practical, free and I even thought of switching from my sleeping mat to good old cardboard. It can get dirty and got style. Vagabond-Style.

Night was falling. At some point I risked getting out of the bushes and sneaked along the yard. Completely dressed black I limped, still struck from a 40km walk the day before, around trying to find the crew change point. Where will the train stop. I randomly set up a base at a bushy slope. I had my cardboard making any place a home for me. Life can be that simple. Still, the night was terrible. There were 4 different trains. One was Junk, a short IM with double stacks and two Peddlars. No train stopped. Nothing to hop.

Warm dreams

Again it was chill, my sleeping bag tried its best in keeping me warm. I had different dreams that night. All with the same concept. I was in a scenario where I was cold and tired trying to find a warm sleeping place. And found a comfy couch, warm cubbies and stuff like that. At least after three of those dreams later sun was rising slowly. No train that night. What a disappointment. And at exactly 9am the Bull was driving around in his pick-up. As I was just exiting the bushes I saw him coming. Alarm! Back into hiding.

I don’t think of quitting. But I have to come up with a new plan. I had to catch a train somehow. But first to Walmart stocking up my reserves. Also I got me some Oropax. Optimizing my equipment gradually. I found out on the internet that I waited at the wrong place and that the crew change happened further south in the yard. In general for this yard the guide was: “Catwalk.” The Hop-Out was exposed. I would soon find out by myself, what this would mean. Best strategy: Only use at night. So, waiting again. I walked towards the yards, searched a shady place, unfolded my paperboard and took a nap.

That meaningless waiting. Glorious. Never when hitchhiking, there you are always tensed, concentrated. I was lying in front of some house, some man told me I should take care since I would go to jail if the police catch me here. America and homeless. People stopped randomly dumping garbage. Computer screens, paper boxes. Only when some suckers came rifling through the boxes taking everything of value I realized, this was a clothing donation spot. I wasn’t too well prepared for a cold night on the train so I found myself a leather jacket.

At some point a Mexican guy appeared, maybe around 45 years old, a small backpack and a sleeping bag in his hands. He asked for the best way to Chicago. He also wanted to catch a train that night but he had not hopped for 10 years now. He bought me a Coke and gave me a pair of socks as a present. In return he got a lighter from me. You take care of each other on the road. Sharing is caring!

Where I had slept and sat around all day a small community was forming. Another guy, suntanned, covered in tattoos with a bandana some kind of luggage (A packing of a tablet and a water bottle, fixed together with a string) arrived at our group. He started talking instantly as if we would know each other since years. “I was out of town for 2 years now, just come back and the cops are already after me again.” THE COOOOPS! Supposedly three cars, following him all day long. Just now nobody could see them, maybe coffee-break. Clear case of paranoia or police state? I gave him some cigarettes.

In the nearby yards I saw a human with a backpack, completely in black. The criminal look identified him clearly as train hopper. Short snack. “Are you catching out?” he asked me. “Yes, where are you going?” “California.”. My direction. His name is Roy. We teamed up. Roy was well prepared. One of his friends was apparently close to the author of the Crew Change Guide himself which makes you impressively mighty and he also had the newest Version. 2015. The holy book! We found a nice place near the entrance to the yard and waited for darkness. A great night was in front of us.

Der Beitrag Trainhopping – Catchin out tonite! erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.

Train Hopping is dangerous. Compared to hitchhiking, here one wrong step can separate life and death. Or “just” losing an arm or leg. Trains are one of the vehicles that are more easy to accelerate than to brake. How brutal and monstrous they were I could only imagine. You know the moment when you are waiting at a railway crossing and that steel colossus sluggishly drifts past you.The ground is shaking. Rhythmic beats accentuate the movement. You feel respect.

Getting on the train

I had found a cheap donut shop and had a typical american breakfast- not healthy. As I left the store this Hobo* crossed the street. Our eyes met. “Hey man, what’s up? Do you know something about the local yards?”. I had no clue at all. I was a Greenhorn. Never hopped a train and never heard of a “Hop-Out-Spot“. I had only read a lot. I knew much about freight trains, american history of trains, technical details about the Air-Break, setup of a yard and how silly bulls act. But of train hopping itself I had no idea. You can’t learn it out of the book. You have to go and do it.

My Hobo friend’s name was Jessie. He was on the rails since 2 years finishing his journey here by hopping his last train towards home. ”I am ready to deal with my family now.”, he said and I was touched to share that moment with him. We talked about yards, about train hopping and I listened eagerly. He talked about stories of hardcore hoppers who tied hooks to their body and jump on trains on the run, to „fly with the train!” like he told. Sick shit.

We walked through the city. I bought us a gallon of water (3.78L). Jessie had no money and had to do some busking to buy water but I happily paid for him. He was a good guy. At some point he promised: “I make sure, we get you on a good car.” He really cared. I was thankful to met him.

Train Hopping is a lifestyle. Part of the american culture with a long history. The train hopping community in the US is pretty closed. It’s illegal and you really have to take care. A lot of dumb kids hang around on the rails behaving like shit and several train hoppers feel attacked by that. They don’t want this shit picture of them. And they don’t want even further increased safety regulations by the train companies.

A lot of information in this sport is thus closed off the public. There is the Crew Change Guide, like the Bible for train hoppers, very detailed hints on Hop-Outs and what to take care about on yards. It’s really hard to get a CCG. Took me long before I had a 2006 Version in my hands, completely outdated, pretty much useless, but better than nothing.

The more lucky I was to meet Jessie. He showed me the Hop-Out. A Bridge. A lot of traffic under it. Cars from the military police crossed a nearby intersection. After 15 minutes a train arrived going my direction. And stopped. I was pumped with Adrenalin already and asked Jessie if it was the right direction. He said it was just a loco. Pity. Anyway I checked the rails. There was definitely a long freight train up there. In my direction. Go, go, go!

We let another police car pass and climbed up the bridge. In bright sunshine on a road with heavy traffic. Felt strange, but I thought “Well.” We jumped over the first standing train and were able to check for a good car protected from being spotted by the two steel collossi.

We found a nice Grainer. Jessie said I can hop that one. I climbed onto it. We said our good bye, then it was hiding time. Keep yourself low! I lied on cold, dirty steel, my heart was beating fast. The Airbrake hissed,the train would start soon. Slowly the cars started moving and I had jumped my first train. What a feeling. I made that! Happiness and euphoria. Highball, here we go!

Being trapped with a monster

If a train rolls, it rolls. And if it rolls, it’s noisy. Steel couplings ripping the trains on the rails with enormous force over the rails. A monotonous sound of the tearing wheels. Dust and dirt everywhere. In front of me a 100 ton heavy grainer, which repeatetly is moving freightening towards me, till it gets smashed noisy into the coupling for making a move into the other direction. As the train accelerated I figured that I was captured there. There was no exit. We were rolling. You can get really afraid by a train. Especially sitting amidst one.

Our trail was leaving the city into the wild west of America. Into the unpopulated steppe, through dry land that had nothing but the rails leading our way. In between countless stops. Letting through other trains. Heading on. Crashing couplings. I was on a Peddlar, a low priority train. We were going really slow. 200 Miles within the first 17 hours. I knew trains ain’t fast, but that slow?

Not expected that. I had calculated 8 to 10 hours of drive. I didn’t plan the 21 hours that I would spend on that train in the end. Again I didn’t carry any food. Too lazy to go shopping. A gallon of water and a pack of cigarettes, that was it. My preparations were stupid and naive. But as long as the ride is rolling I am riding. Never turn down a ride!

At some point it was dark. The train stopped in front of the important crossing. If it was going west it would take me straight to the city I planned. Or it could go north where i didn’t want to go. We were already waiting since 30 minutes, letting pass one train after another. I made some pictures. From time to time i got a little paranoid. Has somebody seen the red focus LED of my camera? Or seen me? Is police on its way here to search the train? It went worse.

I walked through the wagon. On the ground there were those steel bars, connected with the brake. I stumbled over one. That can’t be good for the mechanics. Had I broken something? I sat next to the pressure tank of the air brake. Suddenly a loud, deafening hissing. The air brake gave off it’s pressure. 8 bar erupting next to my ear. Tinnitus, stress, something must have been broken by me. I panicked again. Starring towards the locomotive. Was somebody walking to my car fixing the brake? I saw a light. Will I be spotted now? I was so insecure and nervous. After several minutes the brake pumped up again. And we continued rolling. Everything allright Stefan!

Time to suffer

The train passed the intersection and headed north. Fuck. Wrong direction. I have to get off. But my slow and idle Peddlar decided to become a Hot-Shot. Rushing straight through the next 5 hours without a single stop. We went into the rocky mountains. It became very cold. Cold air was hitting me from the side. My summer sleeping bag failed again and I shivered. Water and cigarettes. That was all I had. I was tired, frozen, hungry and going into the wrong direction! Frustration! This is also a part of train hopping: exhausting and merciless. I wasn’t able to exit. Suffering period.

Whilst sitting on my backpack trying to stay awake I saw the mountains that we were passing. The land was deserted and brightened by moonshine. Somewhere canged inside of me. I understood the situation now. What had been hidden, came into my consciousness. It is incredibly beautiful here! This noisy, brutal monster of steel. Me amidst. Outside bright moonshine glazing on the passing rocky mountains. Not a single house. No streets. A panorama that you can only find on a freight train. Damn, why am I freezing?

Euphoria, Luck and Insanity again crawled out of their beds, joined at a table, abjured self-pity and I started to enjoy the ride completely. It was breathtaking. Serotonin rushed through my body. Some time passed, since I had that kind of thrill whilst hitchhiking. Train hopping: My new love! Hobo romance. The train became god. And I had to follow unconditionally.

It was about 5am as my train stopped for the first time leaving me a chance to flee. I looked around. There was a small settlement. Civilisation. Time to get off. Dawn was walking on the sky. I was in Idaho. A little too far north. But first, get off the train. My ears deaf from the sound. My train slowly started to move away and I looked at the passing wagons. I was in no hurry that night. Behind the train was a car waiting to cross the rails. I lifted my thumb. The driver immediately pulled over and gave me a ride. I couldn’t suppress my excitement and told him that I had just hopped that train. He understood. He also hopped trains when he was young.

Der Beitrag Trainhopping – Pure love! erschien zuerst auf Warm Roads.