Hobo Envy

I just finished reading “Riding Toward Everywhere” by William T. Vollmann. I've wanted to sample his work for a while but wasn't ready to dive into one of his weightier tomes. This relatively short book is his account of “riding the rails”, or surreptitiously hopping aboard freight trains as they make their way up and down the coasts. Inherent in these trips is the attempt to stay a step ahead of ever-present danger. As it is illegal to sneak aboard trains, there's always the risk of getting caught and/or beaten up by the security guard “bulls” who patrol the train yards. Also, jumping on or off a moving train poses the potential of broken limbs or death.

As a “feauxbeaux” (or fake hobo), Vollmann always has a bed to come home to at the end of his journeys. He gets to dip his toe into the waters of the hobo life without worrying so much about material comforts. Driving all of this is a passion for the wide open spaces that are attainable only by rail routes that plow through unspoiled areas. While Vollmann doesn't have to live in hobo villages, he still takes part in a lifestyle that is beyond the grasp of the non-hobo “citizens” who live traditional, structured lives. Throughout “Riding Towards Everywhere”, Vollman documents the fruits of his journeys: the interactions he has with people who cross his path and the bounties of natural wonder that he experiences through the open door of a rail car. For me, the lesson that's made loud and clear is that if you want to experience things in life that not everyone gets to experience, you have to take routes that not everyone is willing or able to take.

As I read “Riding Toward Everywhere”, I couldn't help but feel envy for the people that Vollmann meets who seem to be freer than the rest of us who worry about jobs, apartments, 401Ks, etc. I've spent a lot of time feeling like I have no choices because I've created a narrative that dictates certain requirements and tangible anchors in order for me to feel safe. I don't feel like I could just shed everything and walk away. As the old saying goes, “the more that you possess, the more that possesses you”. To me, these folks seem to embody freedom as they are unencumbered by the pressures of working for The Man. Much of this viewpoint is fantasy, of course. I have no idea where these hobos came from nor do I have any sense of the pain they may experience on a daily basis. All of this eludes me as I type this on my shiny iMac that sits on a beautiful wooden desk within the confines of a comfortable apartment.

At one point, Vollmann quotes part of this passage from “On The Road”:

In an instant all the city of Gregoria could hear the good times going on at the Sala de Baile. In the hall itself the din of the music — for this is the real way to play a jukebox and what it was originally for — was so tremendous that it shattered Dean and Stan and me for a moment in the realization that we had never dared to play music as loud as we wanted, and this was how loud we wanted. (Bold emphasis added.)

I feel as if those who live more freely than me (hobo or “citizen”) are the ones who crank the dial of life to 11 and let 'er rip. People in this category are the ones who have traveled, lived in other places (sometimes not so glamorously), and have been willing to throw caution to the wind without worrying so much about the results. They have stories instead of regrets. I've lived most of my life terrified of risk and unable to speak out and be who I wanted to be. I did what I was told when I was young while others told off the teachers, got high behind their parents' backs, and didn't give a shit about the mythical “permanent record” that supposedly tracked all of your youthful discretions for the purpose of screwing you as an adult. Those running on 11 tend to do things that are seemingly unwise with the potential of having their actions backfire in their faces. If I knew then what I know now, I would've taken the governor off long before I did because those who flaunted the rules won the game in terms of adventure and fulfillment. I can assure you that keeping the music muffled at 2 or 3 won't get you there.

I'm taking steps these days to get out of that self-made prison of fear and someday I might document some of that journey. Each day, I try to do something that makes me uncomfortable so I can prove to myself that I can get through the experience unscathed. As I make these small gestures, I feel a little bit better about myself. I may never ride the rails but I can still move towards a greater sense of freedom.

Photo courtesy of www.thehobosoul.com.