While they had their little sexual orgies on the weekends, I found my own girlfriends. One woman at a time was enough for me. Maybe even too much. My girlfriend, Dee, suffered, watching me do my thing, loving me as much as she could. I loved my Dee. At 18, she was my first real relationship that lasted – four years, a long four years.

The air is quickly getting colder blowing through my house of a railroad car. I have a backpack and no jacket. I stand to take in the beautiful country I am breezing through. The train tracks curl around the bend, suddenly behind me the red caboose appears and the man in it sees me.

“Alex”, I tell myself, “now look what you’ve done”. What if Mr. Caboose man informs the police there’s a vagabond riding the rails?

So I sink back down on my gravel chair and tell myself, “If you want to stand and see the countryside, do it on the straightaway tracks, idiot boy!”

The train is coming to a stop. I peek through the little drilled hole in my car and see a small sign, a town I’ve never heard of, state unknown.

The wheels are rolling faster and faster and I take a look at the world passing by me. Blue skies huge green trees and I’m missing my girl Janice. I’m missing my other girl Laura. I miss Dee, But I’m not missing society. Free bird is out of his little myopic mind and flying, cloud hidden, whereabouts unknown.

I see a highway a few hundred yards away as a ‘74 luxury convertible rolls alongside the traffic and tourists and hucks that seem homeward bound.

A little boy notices me out of his window in the backseat of Daddy’s car and opens his window, waving both hands excitedly towards me.

 “Look Mama, a real-life hobo!” 

The family turns to look and all are waving at me. I think, “Hey yawl take a picture, it’ll last longer, put it in your scrapbook and tell your friends. I am the real thing”.

Alex makes their day. Let’s hear it kids, he’s a jolly good fellow. Hi ya rugrats, how ya doing? Someone told me reality is for people who can’t handle drugs. Caution, don’t try this at home unless under professional supervision. Of course, that would be me! 

That was then. 

This is now. 

I sink back into the rocks and let memory take me again.

Disclaimer: Some names have been changed to protect identities and some characters are entirely fictional. All of the contents herein are based on memory – subjective memory. Therefore, the stories found on these pages, while based on real happenings, are subject to the tricky minefields of memory and cannot and should not be construed as fact.