There was a time when "hoppin' a rail" meant freedom, manifest destiny, a chance to stumble into something greater than ones self. Or, as a photographer once waxed nostalgic, where Woody Guthrie would have roamed.
Friday, December 19, 2008
But the rails are dirty, dangerous ribbons of metal and men; where hot days and cold nights rule. The rail riders today are not the charming hobo's from the past, sitting around a campfire singing in simple prose. They are outsiders; beyond Madmax and the Matrix. All at once angry, but scared to admit a simple fact, that they are alone, tossed aside, discarded.
I see the rails a lot in my job. I never considered them for anything other than for their utility, which is why I decided to 'train' my camera lens on them for a day. The result is the above photo, entitled Slow Train Coming. Hopefully, it evokes that sense of taking you some place further than when you started.
Posted by The Wandering Blues at 9:14 PM