Hey Uncle Paden!....

Me too. Me too.

First you have to brush your teeth, wash your hands, make one last trip to the bathroom and get into your jammies. Then you must promise to go right to sleep as soon as the story is over and not beg for another story. Then, and only then, if you have been very, very good, he might tell you about how he met Money Penny.

Ooooo. That would be a good story.

Young Paden rides the rails

> Tell us a bedtime story. Please...Pretty please...Pretty, pretty please....
Ok...since you said pretty please.

I was a young, dumb school kid in the early sixties. Pops was a travelling surveyor and we lived in some pretty fantastic places. The most intolerable was Dexter, N.M. The most beautiful was Buena Vista, Colorado.

Don't get me wrong, New Mexico is a fine place. In Dexter we lived in a small shotgun house right by the tracks. The noise was horrible and us boys slept on top of each other in the front room. We finally moved to a nice house in Roswell. Life got better after that.

Anyway. Buena Vista in 1962 was a breathtakingly beautiful place. It seemed as wide open as a mountain boom town from 100 years earlier. We grabbed trout with our bare hands out of barely thawed mountain streams. I've seen stacks of dynamite in old mine shafts, with copper colored salts leaching from the burst wooden crates. My childhood was full of experiences that I cherish.

But I also got a false sense of security experiencing all that good stuff. I got a little bold. I made some choices that were, well, pretty damn stupid. One of them was choosing to hop a train at the age of 12.

Back then there was a passenger train that came through town everyday, southbound from Leadville, heading for Salida. The school in town, Irving Avery Elementary, was on one side of the tracks and our house was on the other. We walked the tracks every day to get home, even past the hobo camp.

My peeps and I would often talk about riding on the train hobo style. The train usually had two or three passenger cars and half a dozen or so freight cars. Never saw a caboose, either. A lot of the times there would be a number of empty belly dump rock cars. The bin on the car sloped inward at each end, That made a perfect fit for a human.

As we made Main St. this fateful day we could see that the train was a little late and still at the station. There were lots of rock cars lined up behind it. It was the 'perfect storm' of details. I decided I could get on a rock car and by the time it made the curve by the house I would hop off.

My buddies and I had a short conversation about it. Their general consensus was something along the lines of "no way, man". Woosies.

Just as I was about to insult their manhood, the engine roared with its slow wail. It was pulling out. The time to act was now. I asked "who's in?" They all stared at me like I was nuts. Like I said, woosies.

I was excited as I clammered up the steps, the train was just beginning to move. I was giddy with the though of beating them to the creek and hopping off. I'll be there waiting on them!

They had already started walking south down the path next to tracks. I finally passed them; waving, yelling and smiling like a fox chewing a yellow jacket. For some reason they didn't share my excitement. One of my buddies, Dwight, slowly and sadly raised a hand and waved...like he'd never see me again. I got a funny feeling in my gut.

The train slowly sped up and was getting a good head of steam. I had seen plenty of hobos hop off at the curve. The fact that I had never done it myself apparently didn't bother me...until a few minutes later.

Do you know how high up in the air it looks when you're on a train car looking down a slope of 2" granite ballast? At twenty miles an hour each and every piece of stone looked razor sharp. And the train gained speed. I woosied out. I couldn't jump. It would have been suicide. That funny feeling in my gut got worse. I watched my home town get smaller and smaller as the train got faster and faster. I was going to perish before I ever even got a learner's permit. Holden would probably finally get the top bunk. I got to thinking I don't even know if the train stops in Salida. I had no earthly idea what would become of me.

Fear is a funny thing. First it clouds your mind with a truck load of "what ifs". Then something kicks in and everything looks clearer, sharper. Adrenaline makes your heart race and gives you the strength of ten men. I was going to get off this train if it's the last thing I do. And that was a distinct possibility.

I think Salida is about forty miles from Buena Vista. For about an hour I was the king of hobos. I saw alpine country rush past that no humans had ever seen before. I was really on top of the world, if only for a while. Suddenly the train cars started bucking and I could hear the whistle moan as we slowed. I recognized the highway. This was my one chance to stay a kid and click my ruby slippers together and make it home. I had to get off the train.

My dismount was a lot less dramatic than I was prepared for. The train DID stop in Salida. As it slowed to a crawl I hopped off the car and my feet were back on planet earth.

As I tried to look inconspicuous I noticed two brakemen and a uniform on the other side of the tracks. Yep, they're pointing at me. Yep, they're yelling at me. Yep, they're running toward me....

Just as I broke into a gallop a huge greasy hand grabbed me by my neck and my feet came out from under me. This guy turned me around and looked right into my face with a grin. He had the greenest teeth I've ever seen on a person. "Hey Charlie" he yelled, "I found your runaway!"

In an instant a Chaffee County deputy and two railroad employees stood in a circle and had me in a pigpen. They were poking at me and yelling. Eddie Haskell called it "giving somebody the business". It was cruel. Rather than allow them to see me burst into tears I ran. I ran all of about two feet. The deputy had my britches belt in his fist. He carried me to his patrol pickup like a sack of potatoes. I was busted.

Inside the depot I regained a little dignity. Somebody bought me a soda pop and I got to sit in a chair. I was crestfallen and wounded. I remember thinking I should have stayed on the train. Then I heard a familiar voice. It was Pops Cash.

I remember thinking I REALLY should have stayed on the train...

Apparently my buddies had ran to my house and notified Mamma Cash. Mamma phoned Pops and the Sheriff's Office. And poor little Paden barely made 40 miles before the whole world was looking and waiting for him.

I remember thinking everybody made way too big a deal out of it. Pops wailed the tar out of me. I remember him asking me why I was mad a everybody. I told him I was mad that they had came and got me.

I remember he asked me, "What was I suppose to do Paden? You're my son."

I couldn't answer that at the time. But by golly, he was right. B-)

But Unc Payden

How did you meed Money Penny?

But Unc Payden

I'll spin that tale soon, but I'll have to have that story reviewed prior to publication, Nate. 😉

...something along the lines of "domestic tranquility..."

Young Paden rides the rails

Nighty night, young'n's.

Young Paden rides the rails

Good one.

But Unc Payden

That has already been insured per the Constitution.

You do spin a good yarn!

:good:

Young Paden rides the rails

I can't wait for the book.

Keep them coming..:-)

But Unc Payden

“I'll spin that tale soon, but I'll have to have that story reviewed prior to publication, Nate…”

Can’t wait for that one. Make sure it is unabridged, and go into graphic detail on how you got to “third base”! 😉 😉

I'm sure Money won't mind you sharing the intimate details with every surveyor on the planet.

Young Paden rides the rails

Great story. I was never brave enough to jump a train. Several of my friends have and took a trip to the big city for the day...

Young Paden rides the rails

> I was never brave enough to jump a train.

Not with this guy on the loose

But Unc Payden

unk,
I'm pretty sure you could tell a story about going to Wal-Mart and make it a good one. I couldn't tell a story about the aliens taking George Harrison to the Alamo and fighting Santa Anna and make it interesting. Some folks got it, I suppose.

Young Paden rides the rails

> This guy turned me around and looked right into my face with a grin. He had the greenest teeth I've ever seen on a person.

That's funny. I went to school with a kid named Charlie that had green teeth. Literally GREEN teeth. Could have been moss growing for all I know.

I didn't remember his name until I read that.

Can't say that I have seen anybody with green teeth in the 30 years since.

"smiling like a fox chewing a yellow jacket"

That's a keeper. I've seen a dog do it, I imagine it's the same grin.

Young Paden rides the rails

That is a great story Uncle Paden. Please keep posting them. Many fond memories for you to share with us.

Young Paden rides the rails

Took me a while to figure out what you were calling them. Wuss, wussy or wussies I believe is proper spelling.