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Over the past two years, I had made some desultory attempts nearby but without success: the Baltimore Bayview yard and Hyattsville, MD. The latter was a particular waste of time because CSX upgraded the tracks long ago, making the trains too fast to jump, but I lazily hoped against hope to find a train stopped for clearance or the like. The last failed attempt was in late November, when in a bit of Murphy’s law, I found 2 repairmen adjusting a crossing signal.
I caught a northbound freight in Richmond, VA, but it was going to take so long to change crews that I took Amtrak instead. Three years had passed, a pandemic had come and receded somewhat, and I thought yet again it was time for a freight train ride somewhere, anywhere. Having sold out for a job on the East Coast decades ago, I was resigned to undramatic, flat scenery.
Bruce came by, with plans that lifted me out of my post-injury depression. After committing sedition for a couple days, he was ready to head to the Northeast by freight. We rode the posh commuter train to Manassas, a first-time experience even for me, and headed out of the parking lot and down the tracks. Within a few hundred yards, we had left the impatient honking SUV drivers and the general-aviation airport far behind, walking beside woods and farms.
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