Took the truck in for an oil change and tune-up. From the shop I walked out to a set of abandoned railroad tracks on the other side of I-75.
You don’t always need to buy round-trip plane tickets to destinations exotic and unknown in order to go traveling. All you need to do is step out your front door. You’ll be surprised at the things you discover on foot that you would otherwise miss when you’re speeding by at forty miles an hour in a car or bus.
Found some railroad spikes and an old Mexican man sitting by his lonesome.
“Hola,” I say. He nods quietly without smiling.
Further down the tracks I am joined by an old Mexican woman who comes out from between the trees that separate the tracks from a trailer park next to the highway. She hobbles up to the uneven tracks, limping along. I wonder if she’s getting her morning exercise to rehabilitate an injured foot or something. “Buenos dias,” I say. “Buenos dias,” she says without smiling.
I see two black cats wrestling in the tall green grass. They stop and watch me as I draw nearer. Then they dash beneath a gap in the skirting of a trailer home. One sticks his head out and peers at me as I pass.
I follow these tracks to the end of the line where it runs into Parker Road. On the other side of the street the tracks have been incorporated into the DART rail system. Four dollars buys you an all-day pass anywhere on the system. I catch a ride into Dallas.