One winter in Kansas, a car knocker chased me off the train. I traipsed through the snow to where this old wrecked car was settin’, off from the tracks a-ways, and got inside outta the wind. My feet were startin’ to get where I could hardly feel ‘em. Took my jacket off and wrapped it around ‘em. This cop comes by. His hand was brushin’ the snow off the windshield, and he motions me out. Took me to jail, fed me, and let me warm up and spend the night.

Some guys ain’t so lucky. Couple years back, there was two guys ridin’ over Soldiers Summit in the dead of winter. They had a gallon a wine and fell asleep on top a their sleepin’ bags. Didn’t bother crawlin’ inside. By the time they got to Salt Lake they’s froze solid. White port blanket got ‘em.

76.