Searching for my blade at the yard
I hadn’t realized my knife was lost until it was time to head off for work. After searching around the house and in my car to no luck I knew it was back at the train yard, somewhere. A problem I couldn’t tackle until later that evening. Considering there are about nine lines of trains with a breadth of cars alongside nightfall to alter the perspective my task seemed like finding a needle in a haystack. I had to let intuition guide me.
I’m normally there to shoot photos of the graffiti, primarily the work of my homie VOER, and it’s always during daylight. I’ll be there for a few hours walking a nice distance gathering exposures before hopping between carriages looking for more. My blade could’ve fallen out of my pocket while moving around at any point. I felt it would be best to trace my steps backwards and exchange lanes when it felt right.
Engines could be heard in the distance, meaning the cars could move at anytime. I’d need to be extra cautious navigating through the yard, which is lit until you go between the massive petroleum freights and boxcars lined side by side. To further alter the setting, new cars had arrived and this was my first time there in the dark. With my phone light I searched the gravel. The thought of a worker or even another tagger picking up my sharp was considered along the path to finding it but I wasn’t going to relent.
Eventfully enough I ran into a long square piece of wood with cans scattered around , which I didn’t recall seeing that day. I almost jumped that line for another believing I hadn’t been through there, except my gut told me otherwise. I walked up a bit further when I saw the shape.
I was absolutely relieved and yelled “Hell to the yeah!” making way to my exit. Before reaching the end of freights into a vaguely lit section, the silhouette of another person was ahead and he didn’t appear to be a worker. Whether he was painting or just some crackhead roaming about I wasn’t looking to interact. Immediately, I froze, then got closer to the round rig next to me and reversed on an alternate route to leave.
Despite the elevated danger, to have made no attempt at relocating my blade would’ve haunted me. Even if the quest was fruitless the effort itself would’ve been satisfying.
Also, no guts no glory, no balls no story.
Till next time, my friends, stay up.