Coal Train

   Awakening in a dew covered half-assembled tent, next to the tracks, I pushed my way out. I had slept there for two nights, waiting for the train. There it finally was, behind me. Big, black and steel. Gathering my things as fast as possible, my heart racing, a giddy smile came over me. This was my ride at last. I didn't need a man, I could make my own way.  Hurriedly I climbed onto a small platform, just big enough to sit down, in-between the cars.  On the other side, was another platform just big enough to stow my father's orange leather bag and my white and red electric guitar.  More excited than I had ever been in my 18 years on the planet, I waited for the train to roll.  I was young, thin and tan sitting on the coal train already 1500 miles from the wild Tennessee town where I was raised. 
 
     I was running from my boyfriend who I left home with just a few months prior.  He was an alcoholic/drug addict.  The night I ran he came home drunk and loaded.  On the porch he took it upon himself to scream obscenities into the night.  The neighbors called the cops.  I pleaded with the authorities not to take him to jail while their faces asked, "what the hell are you doing with this guy".  I drug his slobbering, pathetic body to our apartment and began packing.  He had sold the car for drugs and I only possessed two dollars to my name so I needed a free ride.  I had observed the train rolling by on many occasions and the thought had crossed my mind to jump on.  This was the time to go for it. 
 
      Screeeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!  We were rolling!!!!  Just an inch, pause, then another, pause then another and on and on!  I stood up, my smile as wide as possible, hot sun in my face, wind starting to pull my hair back.  We were moving!  I grabbed onto a rail and hung my body out.  I yelled "goodbye motherfucker"  to my boyfriend.   I yelled, "goodbye you sonofabiches"  to everyone in Byrdstown who told me I wouldn't amount to anything.  "Yaaaahoooo"  I screamed into the wind and the sun, feeling in total control of my own life for the first time.  I was free-er than any wild beast or bird or fish, I was like an Indian roaming the land on a wild horse.  I had wandering moccasins, just like Sacajawea in the book I was reading.  Nothing could stop me.
 
 
     We rolled on through fields, forests, and around the sides of mountains.  The train was curving ahead and trudging uphill, I stood up and leaned out and that's when I saw its cargo: coal.  Coal piled high on every car.  I was on a coal train!?!  Who did I think I was Willie Nelson?  Wow this was exciting.  We moved on, ever so slowly, the day wore on, I fell asleep a few times at some of the stops but I never left my little platform.  We rode past some construction workers eying the train and I waved and smiled.  They stood shocked for a second and then smiled and waved back.  The tracks laid through a naval train camp- the sky was dotted with white parachutes all around.  Stopping and going all day we finally pulled into the city.  I guessed it was Denver, I had never been before and I new it was the closest city to Colorado Springs. 
 
     The train stopped and I grabbed my bag and guitar and hopped off.  My bags felt so heavy I didn't know if I could make it to a cafe.  People gasped at the sight of me.  I couldn't understand why I was so shocking.  Maybe they saw me get off the train?  I found a nearby cafe, the Tattered Cover Bookstore/Cafe.  I was certainly tattered.  I unloaded my gear at the closest table and found the bathroom.  Then I saw what the excitement was all about. Black circles of coal dust stained my cheeks.  I had stepped out of a Dickens novel.  Hurriedly I scrubbed away the evidence of my mode of transport and made my way, as invisibly as I could, back to my belongings.  Under my orange bag someone had stuffed a 20 dollar bill.  It was a little embarrassing but I was grateful.  I ordered a frappuchino and a scone. 
 
     After digging out my address book I placed a call to my grandmother who lived in Denver.  She sweetly answered and told me that my uncle John was on his way to retrieve me.  I made small talk with a man about musical instruments after thumbing a few magazines.  A few minutes later my uncle arrived, whom I had never met before, who was with him: none other than my boyfriend - Mark.  He had found an envelope with my grandmother's address and drove to Denver.