From a train-tramp’s point of view, there are two types of trains: Junkers and Hotshots.

Junkers are just what they sound like…the trains you see dragging boxcars, grainers, and ore bins. They generally travel between 20-30 miles per hour and often pull over to the side to let Hotshots pass. Junkers are slow travel – much slower than hitching (for the most part). Often when a Junker pulls over to let a Hotshot pass, it doesn’t move again for hours.

You can ride a Junker in the obvious way…the open boxcar. Just like in the cartoons.

You can also ride in the grainer…Grainers are used to carry…you guessed it…grain.

Grainer

Grainers have holes in the front and back that you can crawl into, curl up in the fetal position and take a nap. Train tramps call them Owl’s Holes. You can’t quite stretch out fully, and I could never get my pack inside, because I used an external frame pack which was too large to fit through the hole.

I learned the hard way to bungee my pack in place on grainers (a previous train’s vibrations had knocked my pack loose and I had to jump off a 30mph train after it).

Inside the Owl’s Hole – I didn’t take this photo, found it on the internet

You can also ride in the bins, but I wouldn’t recommend it. They are most often used to transport coal, and if you ride in one you are quite likely to come away with everything you own covered in soot. Trust me. Plus, and this may be Hobo legend, it’s said that people have died riding in empty bins because no one knew they were there, the bins got loaded and the occupants were crushed beneath the coal.

Now, a little known trick – and this is especially good knowledge in the winter months – you can actually ride in the locomotive itself on a Junker. Most trains have multiple locomotives hooked together and only the one in the very front is occupied. If you have ninja skills you can creep up to the very last locomotive and hop in. It’s warm, there are leather seats to sit in and the locomotives are always stocked with bottled water (that’s some kind of law, road legend has it). But again, large packs like mine will not fit, so you have to attach it somewhere inconspicuous on the outside of the train.

If you’re sneaky enough you can get into the back locomotive and take a nice, warm nap.

Hotshots, on the other hand, are comprised of stacked cargo trailers.

You know, those things dragged around the interstates by 18 wheelers. They are usually stacked two high. The trick is, you look for a trailer that is carrying a cargo unit smaller than the trailer. Most trailers are 47’ long. Find one carrying a 44’ cargo unit and you have a 3’ space in between the trailer wall and the cargo unit. It’s just the perfect place to roll out your bedroll and take a nap.

Hotshots are hobo first class

Plus, Hotshots travel at between 60-100mps and do straight shots from one city two the next. All the Junkers will pull over and let you just zoom past. One quick 2-3 hour trip covering hundreds of miles from one city to the next.

The problem is, Hotshots are really, really hard to catch. You either have to be in the railyard, and have enough skill to avoid the Bulls (train cops) or you have to get really lucky and catch one stopped elsewhere, which is somewhat rare.

Well, there is a third method. You can try to actually jump on a moving hotshot. I have seen it done. But that is also a good way to feed the buzards.

But if you can catch one, Hotshots are the way to ride in style and it is way faster than hitchhiking.

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But I was riding a Junker through Texas. And it was hot.

Damn hot.

Too damn hot.

The boxcar was stifling. I was sitting with my legs dangling outside, watching Texas go by through the open boxcar door at about 10 miles per hour. My pack was propped up in the back corner.

The rugged beauty of West Texas had slowly begun to change. From the plateau speckled desert to a rich, hilly area covered in Live Oaks. A large river was winding off in the distance parallel to the railroad track.

The boxcar itself was a hothouse, easily 10 degrees hotter than the outside, which had to be close to 100 degrees. The metal walls were too hot to touch and I was only able to sit on the metal floor after laying down some cardboard.

I had been on this train about five hours already.

Texas is a big state.

I could see people playing in the river up ahead. They were splashing around, mocking me with their happiness. They knew the misery I was in and they were taunting me from the cool, comfortable river.

I was leaving a regional Rainbow Gathering in New Mexico and heading towards the national Gathering in Missouri. I wanted to get through Texas quickly.

Sadly, I never made it to that National Gathering as I was destined to do a month and a half in a Mississippi jail. But that is another story.

It was so damn hot and that river looked so damn cool.

I debated the merits in my mind and found immediate comfort to be more important to me than any other factor I could possibly compare it to.

I decided to jump off and go for a swim. The train was traveling faster than I would have preferred…but the river’s embrace was well worth the risk.

I threw my pack out ahead of me and then jumped from the boxcar and rolled when I landed to distribute the momentum. I knocked my knee on a rock, but was mostly unharmed.

I fetched my pack, fished a pair a cut-off shorts from its depths, quickly changed and then strolled briskly to the river.

There were lots of people in the river.

Parents were barbecuing on the shore as their children splashed with inner tubes and alligator shaped floaters. Teenagers necked on towels or launched themselves off a rope swing into the welcoming river.

A few protective parents gave me the stink-eye as I approached the river.

I had a large beard covering my dirty face and a chaotic tangle of dreads down to my shoulders. I was wearing a filthy tie-die, cut-off jeans, combat boots and lugging a large frame pack with a bedroll attached to it.

I bungied my pack to tree (so no one could just grab it and run) and jumped into the river.

Ahhh…it was that euphoria of feeling that shortly follows the apotheosis of pain and discomfort.

I stayed in the water…mostly just floating on my back with my eyes closed…until the sun started creeping towards the West.

I could see a bridge off down the river a ways and figured that would be a good place to make camp for the night. I put on some dry clothes behind some bushes and wandered in that direction.

There were a number of tents set up under the bridge. Some people were crowded around a barrel fire and motioned for me to join them as I walked by.

They were friendly country people. They shared their beer with me (they had an ice chest full of Lonestar) and I passed a joint around the circle. I told them some travel stories (part of a pilgrim’s duty to his host is entertainment).

Needless to say it was a late night. I eventually laid down my bedroll a little ways off from the main camp. I woke up early the next morning dehydrated with a killer headache. I searched the immediate area and dug through my pack looking for my canteen, as my mouth was dry I had an incredible, desperate thirst.

I walked to the main camp to see if I left it there the previous night. People were laid out all around in sleeping bags and halfway in their tents.

I began scanning the ground.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’?”

The voice shocked me and for a moment I stood as still as a statue…except for my eyes, which slowly moved in their sockets towards the voice. Off to my left, in my periphery, loomed a very large silhouette.

I turned slowly towards him and said, “I’m looking for my canteen” in a soft, calm voice.

He was a large, visibly drunk man. He had a whiskey bottle in one hand and a pistol in the other. And he was Porky Pigging.

Porky Pigging is where you wear a shirt with no pants.

I tried my best to look at his face, not at the pistol or his exposed nethers. It was a very uncomfortable situation.

“Ain’t no goddamn canteen here”, he said, slurring and swaying where he stood.

“Ok, guess I’ll head off then”, I said, slowly back away.

Thirst be damned…I got back on the tracks and caught the first junker I saw.