Kit was one of the students whose concept of reality consisted of the struggle of Americans during the great depression. I do not know what his background was, or how he came by this view. He was not alone at Simeon in having it. What made him unique was what he did about it. For most of a year he rode freights, worked, begged, and lived in hobo jungles, talking to the older men who had experienced the thirties as adults. One day he said that he would teach me how to hop a freight. Who could turn down such an offer?

Note that I said that he rode freights, not “rode the rods.” The rods hang outside the car, just above the roadbed. Unless driven by great desperation, nobody in his right mind rides the rods.

Even illegally riding a freight train was dangerous enough. You might meet desperate people. You might meet a railroad dick. He might arrest you. He could throw you off of a moving train.

I prepared for the trip by buying a pair of very worn work shoes. I had all the other clothes I needed -- an old flannel shirt and worn jeans, a jacket and navy watch cap. It says something for dress standards at Simeon that my regular winter jacket was perfectly appropriate for a down-and-outer. Those who know me now might doubt that my disguise could be effective. Surely any down-and-outer would be a lot skinnier than I am? But, like many men, I went through a skinny period between an overweight childhood and a somewhat corpulent middle age. (Thus does biology lure potential mates.)

So, one evening I hid a five-dollar bill in my shoe for emergencies and set out with Kit. We rode city buses to the freight yards in Northwest Bustling, where we hung around for a while. Then we went into a diner, where he told a tall tale to the man at the counter, that we were out of work, hungry, and heading out of town to look for a job. He gave us free coffee, and advised Kit on what trains went through on what tracks and what the habits of the railroad police were.

In the diner I made the first of many mistakes. I asked for my coffee black, thinking that it was the he-man thing to do. As we stepped outside Kit told me that somebody who was really hungry would never turn down the nutrition of getting it with cream.

Kit warned me that you must NEVER open a sealed boxcar. That would turn trespass into a serious criminal offense. He found an empty box that he thought would be on the next train going North and we got in. Would it, or would we still be sitting here in the morning?