Got stuck in a rain comin’ over the Rockies on a piggyback. Rained like a son of a bitch. Not a dry spot on the train. Nothin’ to git into. No emptys, nothin’. Soaked ever’thing, sleepin’ bag, grub bag, the works. When I climbed aboard in Denver, the sky was clear as could be, not a cloud in sight, ‘n by the time I hit Bond, it was comin’ down good. Water was runnin’ off the end a my cap like a goddamn waterfall, ‘n my shirt was soakin’ up enough water so’s it was stickin’ to me. Got cold in them passes. The middle a summer, but hit them high passes ‘n the air cools down quick, quicker ‘n ya’ ‘spect. Only time it got dry was goin’ through the tunnels. That Moffat tunnel. That’s one long a son of a bitch. Blacker than a well hole in there. Can’t see your hand in front of your face. Better ‘n six miles and full a diesel exhaust. Them units is pullin’ hard through there, puttin’ out a lotta smoke. And he takes it slow. Don’t want no derailments in them tunnels.

In Grand Junction, when they changed crews, I got me a piece a plastic from a lumber car. I could see it flappin’ ‘round in the wind a couple cars up. Had my eye on it ever since the rain started comin’ down, but there wasn’t no way to git at it till he stopped. Soon’s he set it down, I ran up ‘n ripped that son of a bitch off with my knife ‘n brought it back ta the pig. Wrapped the stuff ‘round me ‘n tucked it underneath me so’s it wouldn’t blow off. There wasn’t enough plastic fer my gear, so I had ta leave it out in the open. Spent better ‘n a day ‘n night ‘n some a the next day layin’ b’tween them big rubber tires, soaked ta the skin. It wasn’t rainin’ straight through, but it might as well have been. It’d come down in buckets, ‘n ease up till it was drizzlin’, ‘n then stop altogether, ‘n then start up again. There wasn’t no tellin’ when it was goin’ to let up, so I stayed under the plastic, no matter if the rain was beatin’ down on me er not.

I got on the Wobbly in Salt Lake. Caught the first thing west soon’s I hit them Roper yards. Comin’ ‘cross the desert ever’thing dried off. I unzipped my sleepin’ bag ‘n spread it out on the floor a the car where the sun could git at it. Had my boots off, ever’thing, had it all spread out on the floor. Only thing didn’t come out OK was a couple paperback westerns. Them things soaked up the water like a couple a sponges. I tried readin’ the one b’fore the pages started stickin’ together, but it wasn’t no use. They was ruined.

Got into Elko ‘n hooked up with four other guys. Knowed ‘em all from one place er ‘nother.  Two of ‘em, Lou ‘n Bob had theirselves a good jungle ‘long the river, so we set up camp there, ‘n each of us pitched in ‘n got us the makin’s fer a stew. It was mostly beans, but we et good.  There was plenty fer ever’body.  Had two big gunboats boilin’ on the fire, ‘n ever’body had their fill. Jus’ b’fore turnin’ in fer the night, me ‘n Bob went over to the yards ‘n got some big sheets a cardboard out of a couple emptys ‘n dragged ‘em back ta the jungle. Didn’t have my plastic no more, on account a it got all fulla grease from underneath that truck trailer. Cardboard’ll keep the rain off ya if it ain’t too big a rain. If it’s jus’ a little drizzle, cardboard’ll do the job. There was enough a that shit fer ever’body.  Had us a good load of it. When we settled in fer the night, each one of us had a piece a cardboard pulled over ‘im.

‘Bout the middle a the night, I feel this soggy hunk a cardboard fall on my face. Son of a bitch if it didn’t come down all night. It wasn’t no kind a heavy rain like I run inta comin’ ‘cross the divide, but it was steady.  Lasted right through ta mornin’.  Soaked on through the cardboard ‘n inta the sleepin’ bag. Ever’ one of us was in the same shape. Five lumps a soggy cardboard out there with a guy under each one. Barely got a fire goin’ in the mornin’. Ever’thing was soakin’ wet. It was still comin’ down the early part a daylight.

71.