We arrived at Denver airport about 5 hours ahead of Dad, which gave us plenty of time to pick up the RV and get stocked up on groceries. Unlike my grandfather, who left Philadelphia in 1922 with only his knapsack, $15, a pistol, and a jar of peaches, we chose to leave less to chance, traveling in the relative comfort of a fully stocked RV, with a refrigerator/freezer, stove, microwave, 3 beds, and even a TV. The fact that we only had 10 days, and that none of us is 22 years old like my grandfather was, had something to do with our decision.
Following the instructions of a taxi driver, we headed for the cell phone pick-up spot to wait for my dad, whose flight was a little late. Thankfully, Aaron saw the sign warning of the 9’6” clearance just as we turned our 12’ high RV in to the arrivals lane. So we got an early lesson in backing up, and then pulled up across from the departure area to wait. Here we got our first reminders of my grandfather’s trip. Several times he and his fellow hobos got picked up at the local train station and run out of town by the local sheriff.
Here’s one example:
June 2, 1922: At Salida, {Colorado} we were forced to leave the train as we were almost frozen {riding on top of the coal car}. Well the 15 of us walked into the railroad station and prepared our beds on the floor and benches. Just as we were all set for a nice little nap, in walked the sheriff of the town. He called us all down to the jail where we spent the night.
June 3, 1922: Were chased out of town by the sheriff. There was no highway to follow and no train till four in the afternoon so we had to hide in the woods. While waiting we washed some clothes in the Colorado River {it is actually the Arkansas River}. It sure is the swiftest body of water I ever saw. I stuck my foot in and was almost carried away by the current. Well at four the train came along. The sheriff must have told them we were going to ride the train because they were watching for us. The other 13 tried to get it from the station platform. Ray and I figured we had a better chance out along the tracks as sometimes the conductor rides out on the blinds then the train slows up and he gets back on the coach again. Sure enough, this is what he did. When he got off we got on from the other side.
Well, while we were waiting at the airport, a policeman meandered over and politely asked us to leave. With no real options for parking a large RV, I had to decide between driving in circles until Dad arrived, or parking about 10 minutes down the road. I let Aaron off to wait for Dad, and on the way to the remote parking, I thought I found a good place to pull over. Within a minute, a trooper pulled up and waved me on. Although not exactly being run out of town, in a small way, we were being initiated into my grandfather’s nomadic experience. Ironically, two days later in Salida, CO, another policeman would shoo us away from where we were parked. Apparently in some towns, RVs are as welcome as hobos in the ‘20s.
June 2, 1922: At Salida, {Colorado} we were forced to leave the train as we were almost frozen {riding on top of the coal car}. Well the 15 of us walked into the railroad station and prepared our beds on the floor and benches. Just as we were all set for a nice little nap, in walked the sheriff of the town. He called us all down to the jail where we spent the night.
June 3, 1922: Were chased out of town by the sheriff. There was no highway to follow and no train till four in the afternoon so we had to hide in the woods. While waiting we washed some clothes in the Colorado River {it is actually the Arkansas River}. It sure is the swiftest body of water I ever saw. I stuck my foot in and was almost carried away by the current. Well at four the train came along. The sheriff must have told them we were going to ride the train because they were watching for us. The other 13 tried to get it from the station platform. Ray and I figured we had a better chance out along the tracks as sometimes the conductor rides out on the blinds then the train slows up and he gets back on the coach again. Sure enough, this is what he did. When he got off we got on from the other side.
Well, while we were waiting at the airport, a policeman meandered over and politely asked us to leave. With no real options for parking a large RV, I had to decide between driving in circles until Dad arrived, or parking about 10 minutes down the road. I let Aaron off to wait for Dad, and on the way to the remote parking, I thought I found a good place to pull over. Within a minute, a trooper pulled up and waved me on. Although not exactly being run out of town, in a small way, we were being initiated into my grandfather’s nomadic experience. Ironically, two days later in Salida, CO, another policeman would shoo us away from where we were parked. Apparently in some towns, RVs are as welcome as hobos in the ‘20s.
No comments:
Post a Comment