Letter To The Editor:

I had some thoughts about your hare-brained scheme about a wide-brimmed hat and a rail-pass and what-not. A hobo doesn't aspire to such finery. If you ride the rails as long as I have, you know all a hobo needs is to follow the Code:

(1) Religious talk gets more food.
(2) Your hobo cup can be used for panhandling, stew, or whiskey, so keep it clean.
(3) Avoid shit-kickin sheriff deputies, they don't take kindly to strangers.
(4) Stealing a pie cooling on a window sill or some eggs from a chicken coop is risky but fortune favors the brave.
(5) Stay away from the artist-types. They drink more than they work, and they aren't much in a fight.
(6) Only a dishonest man has no need for shoes.

I've lived these truths from Baltimore to Alberta and back again. Violate them at your own peril.

​-Roy The Hobo

Dear Roy,

Thank you for your letter. It has always been a dream of mine to exchange correspondence with a fictional character. While I appreciate your concern, I can assure you that my schemes are far more tortoise than hare.

Your tips for train life are also appreciated, but wholly unnecessary. To be clear, I am not now, nor have I ever been a member of the hobo community. I am a gentleman, sir.

Best Regards,
RCT

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I've been thinking about getting a wide brimmed hat, something like Paul Simonon would wear. Sometimes a particular article of clothing or a talisman is needed to pass through a new gate. If you're the type of person who looks at this website for more than a cursory glance, I must assume that you know about this sartorial phenomenon.

After obtaining the correct hat I can set off on a cross country adventure via train. As always, I will travel light with my rail pass, Paul Simonon hat, jean jacket, a couple shirts and a dopp kit for keeping fresh and clean.  A notebook and single handheld camera will be my tools for working. With stops in some of my favorite American cities and sites yet unseen, I will encounter many brilliant artists, performers and storytellers. I'll flirt with beautiful strangers and win money in card games.  At some point along the way I will find or be gifted a well worn electric guitar, just as I have dreamed every night for the past 73 nights.

Once on the other side of the aforementioned gate, I can begin to assemble a novella and a documentary in the style of Louis Malle based on everything I have just predicted. It's taken some time for this vision to come into focus, but now it's here and it's out of my hands.

To all fellow travelers, godspeed!

We were talking in another time again. You sound different on the phone. For a minute I close my eyes and pretend you're here in this room. It hurts to wish so hard for something that isn't there. Under a spell again, my thoughts drift to the movies as they often do.

An image forms in the mind, a song in the voice, and the days fall like dominoes. The long gray sky rolls away and the blue of spring returns. Feeling the sun on my skin reminds me that there will soon be less to carry. It's time for drifting.

And after a while it's not so bad to be a stranger in this world. In fact, it's hard to recall the difference.
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