The morning silence is broken by a murmur
in the distance. The steady rumbling of the endless sinewy steel carcass,
twisting and turning, slithering and sliding, meandering and curving up steep
inclines and down deep ravines, never hurried and never slowing but always a
measured, determined pace, the metallic serpent continues on its course. Blub-blub,
Blub-blubb, Blub-blubb, untiring, steady and determined, stoic unfaltering and
rigid, moving along in its robotic, unhurried fashion, keeping to its schedule.
The earth rumbles, the houses shake on
their foundations and teeth chatter. Like an endless grist mill, huge shiny
steel wheels spinning and grinding all that fall beneath them to a fine dust, an
endless procession of cold, efficient, mechanical power like a Roman Legion
marching through conquered lands.
The vagabond’s highway, a carefree ride, the
hobo’s solace and sanctuary, a refuge and haven, the mechanized precision and
constant movement rocks the wanderers to sleep, like babies in a cradle. Five
hundred cars and four miles long, the steel serpent now disappears into the
distance quietly rumbling into far-away lands. Silence and peace return.
Jim
November 2020
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