Smoke on the Tracks

I never really was one to run the railroad tracks or hobo trains. That was something the my uncles did, mostly for fun and to cut a little time of a walk that probably wouldn’t have took long any way, which brings it back to just being fun. 
For a while though I found a little peace and comfort in stopping at the corner store, buying a cigar, and walking the track puffing on it. Back then a thirteen year old could buy tobacco products no problem and walking the tracks was a place where I could smoke it and no one could see. 
The backroad I walked crossed back and forth over the tracks but there where places where you couldn’t see the tracks from the road. 
Sometimes I would set on the bank and watch the train go by and count the cars. Most of the time there were one hundred and two, sometimes a few more, sometimes a few less. 
I never tried to catch a ride on one though.  Jumping back off, by process, required a nice cushy briar patch to jump into. I hate briars, I fell into enough of those as a kid without tying. 

Salutation Pending 
Johnny R Draper 

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