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Show 194 the cars when they were idle at our station, and walk the tracks to key intersections where people often abandoned couches and other debris. It was something the real engineers had done as an afterthought to their regular duties. As a result, I thought my uselessness might offend them. But maybe since I had no qualifications and wasn't perceived as a threat, or maybe because they didn't have to drag mildew-y couches of the tracks anymore, they didn't seem to mind my presence. I worked at night with two other guys, Greg and Trent. They kept me busy and distant the first two weeks, but after that they were offering me swigs of Jim Beam lifted from Trent's jacket pocket. Those guys came from places that would drive a person to drink. Recent divorce. Difficult finances. Social difficulty. Best years having passed them by. It's true that I can do this with just about anyone, but I saw my future self in their faces right away. They gave me the advice to not get drunk on the tracks, and since I was usually on them, I didn't drink much. It became routine to have a sip or two, and after that, just an endless railroad to clear. All I heard were train horns and sometimes an animal rustling in the surrounding bushes. That rustling made me nervous at first but I got used to it. When trains approached I felt the hum of anticipation in my feet. I watched the trains pass by every night and went home in the morning. In the morning, before I went to sleep, I talked to my mother. She had not been thrilled about my decision to pursue a graduate degree instead of getting a |