Ridin' the rods.

My grandfather was a hobo?

Just kidding. This picture is the mate to Angus on the signal pole.

Many years ago, before my time, railroad box cars had these iron rods underneath. I don't know their real purpose but hobos would ride these rods just as Angus is doing here. Of course, this train isn't moving. What a terrifying prospect... fall asleep for a few seconds, lose your grip and it's all over.

I couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 when grandpa would take me for a walk up Sayre street, then up (I think it was) Cherry Street. We'd cross Westfield Ave. and right there a railroad ran parallel to Westfield Ave.. We'd stand on the Cherry St. bridge and watch the trains go underneath. I think that must have been the Central Railroad on NJ.

How perfectly I recall the smoke billowing up around the bridge when a steam locomotive would pass under the bridge. These had to be oil burning locomotives and I say that because of the unique smell of the smoke. I had forgotten all about the smell of that smoke till I moved to Pennsylvania and into a house with oil heat. Every once in awhile, when the burner starts up, I get a whiff of that same odor... and I think of my grandfather.