The Alberton Papers, Vol. IV, #XVIII
By Dick Darne 8-21-07
The Tune-up Ride
After several days riding across the country and a week of lounging around visiting old friends, I decided I had better get in the saddle and ride. I discovered that an old railroad I knew as a child had become a "rails to trails" bicycle route. It had some significance to me, I used to try and "hop it", not even knowing where it went, which didn’t matter, it always ran one mile per hour faster than I could run. My buddy, Rodney and I devised a plan; we found a path down one of the cuts, where gravity would allow us that extra MPH. We didn’t really appreciate the gravity of the situation anyway, we had no idea where it went, or that the hopper cars having something to grab, had no place to sit. We tried anyway, Rodney made it and extending his hand just like the last scene in the movie, "The Defiant Ones", I ran like the wind trying to grasp his outstretched hand, but my "wind" was more like a gentle zephyr. After aborting that attempt, we set to work devising plan B. This probably helped shape my future as a world renowned thinker. At least county wide. OK, west end of county renowned thinker.
Plan B was a masterpiece of our combined ruminating. We got his old boy scout pack, our trusty pocket knives and our jointly owned "Cutter Compact Snake-Bite Kit" (another story). Of course we never thought about jackets or sleeping bags or anything like that, just high adventure. After appropriating my grandmother’s good can opener, we set off for the railroad yard, and finding an empty boxcar with a big empty cardboard box in it, we climbed in. We put the box in the corner, got in it, cut a couple peepholes and snickered. This was much easier than trying to run one down. For what seemed like hours, we went all over the yard, while we snickered as only those who know they have beaten the system can snicker. Finally, we stopped at a loading dock, the door rolled open and an adult voice boomed: "OK boys, end of the line, be on your way now!" the gentle zephyr was now let out of our sails.
Now, over fifty years later, I would ride my bicycle the entire fifty miles of the old track bed, seeing what I didn’t see back then. I parked in the middle and the first day rode to the end in Purcellville (pronounced Percyville) and back. There was one departure from the roadbed onto the highway to traverse Clark’s Gap, el. 535 ft.(passes are called gaps in that part of the country). The 535 ft. was all at once, straight up and over. Good workout!
The second day I rode the other half to D.C. and back,. with the help of a large sno-cone. I never found the scene of the attempted "hop", but parts have been wiped out by I-66. I don’t know what ever happened to Rodney. I hope he caught his train. My grandmother never knew exactly what we were up to that day, or why I had her can opener. If she knew, she’d roll over in her grave.
Wax nostalgic occasionally, it’s good for the soul. dd
By Dick Darne 8-21-07
The Tune-up Ride
After several days riding across the country and a week of lounging around visiting old friends, I decided I had better get in the saddle and ride. I discovered that an old railroad I knew as a child had become a "rails to trails" bicycle route. It had some significance to me, I used to try and "hop it", not even knowing where it went, which didn’t matter, it always ran one mile per hour faster than I could run. My buddy, Rodney and I devised a plan; we found a path down one of the cuts, where gravity would allow us that extra MPH. We didn’t really appreciate the gravity of the situation anyway, we had no idea where it went, or that the hopper cars having something to grab, had no place to sit. We tried anyway, Rodney made it and extending his hand just like the last scene in the movie, "The Defiant Ones", I ran like the wind trying to grasp his outstretched hand, but my "wind" was more like a gentle zephyr. After aborting that attempt, we set to work devising plan B. This probably helped shape my future as a world renowned thinker. At least county wide. OK, west end of county renowned thinker.
Plan B was a masterpiece of our combined ruminating. We got his old boy scout pack, our trusty pocket knives and our jointly owned "Cutter Compact Snake-Bite Kit" (another story). Of course we never thought about jackets or sleeping bags or anything like that, just high adventure. After appropriating my grandmother’s good can opener, we set off for the railroad yard, and finding an empty boxcar with a big empty cardboard box in it, we climbed in. We put the box in the corner, got in it, cut a couple peepholes and snickered. This was much easier than trying to run one down. For what seemed like hours, we went all over the yard, while we snickered as only those who know they have beaten the system can snicker. Finally, we stopped at a loading dock, the door rolled open and an adult voice boomed: "OK boys, end of the line, be on your way now!" the gentle zephyr was now let out of our sails.
Now, over fifty years later, I would ride my bicycle the entire fifty miles of the old track bed, seeing what I didn’t see back then. I parked in the middle and the first day rode to the end in Purcellville (pronounced Percyville) and back. There was one departure from the roadbed onto the highway to traverse Clark’s Gap, el. 535 ft.(passes are called gaps in that part of the country). The 535 ft. was all at once, straight up and over. Good workout!
The second day I rode the other half to D.C. and back,. with the help of a large sno-cone. I never found the scene of the attempted "hop", but parts have been wiped out by I-66. I don’t know what ever happened to Rodney. I hope he caught his train. My grandmother never knew exactly what we were up to that day, or why I had her can opener. If she knew, she’d roll over in her grave.
Wax nostalgic occasionally, it’s good for the soul. dd
posted by aldermandarne | 11:42 PM
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