Dead Batteries

Wednesday dawned.

I had been inundated  with the world all during our fine weather, unable to escape.

I'd make a run for it today even if it did look threatening.

I had found a siding down on Bayou Boeuf.  It looked partially abandoned.

That was good enough to lure me there. 

I packed the bike with all the essentials for an extended trip.

I pressed the starter button.

There was a deafening silence.

Not a click or grind.

Not a strained sound from  down below.

Nothing.

Then I remembered finding the key on a few days earlier and 

reflecting  upon it as a recent event. That was a mistake.

I then played with the idea of taking the DL, a much heavier and 

more cumbersome motorcycle. 

It is not me anymore. I want something that will go up a muddy 

hill or across railroad tracks if pursued.

That was an extreme possibility but stuff does happen and having the right

tool at hand when it does is an advantage. 

Oh, and I do so  like advantages.

After 2 hours of trying to revive the completely exhausted unit,

I did.

Away I went. I'd still have a chance at catching the Sunset Limited in Lafayette.

I'd been preparing for this ride since 8:00 and it was getting late

without moving an inch, but still there was time to bring back

a few catches.

I am a person who disdains schedules and appointments which 

makes it even stranger that I enjoy a rendezvous.

Arriving at a point in time and space as another entity is intriguing.

I think I enjoy that more than chasing, though chasing, I suppose

is a collection of rendezvouses.

I realize now that it is the self ordained rendezvous that I can tolerate,

not the one others dictate. 

These self analysis sessions are  truly beneficial.

Thanks for waiting.

Perhaps now you can rendezvous with the following ride report. 

LOL's.

Here we go.

After getting ripped off at the gas station I hit the Breaux Bridge Highway,

or I guess from this end it's the Lafayette Highway.

I've lived near Breaux Bridge for 37 years but I am still Lafayette oriented.

I didn't know how far along the Limited was so I went to the west end of the yard 

and worked my way back against the grain, sure not to miss the train.

Three yellow X Santa Fe engines caught my eye.

The Santa Fe is no longer a railroad company having been merged into the BNSF, 

the "SF" being a reminder of its earlier existence.

At the west end I looked west. 

There would be no chasing trains into what I saw.

Blackness ruled the sky and there were electrical fireworks within.

No way, buddy. I'll do rain, hard rain, but don't add the snap crackle and pop,

I would  hide under a rock.

I did one of my famous U-turns, elevating the front end of the bike into 

a twelve o'clock high wheelie and taking a rear view picture upon

landing perfectly aligned with Walker Road.

 I went to the University St. underpass and waited.

Soon I'd hear the horns.

Say What!!

 "The Patron Tequila Express" is its name. Seems I've been on that train before.

All the information you want on this car is HERE.

 I was just thinking I hadn't seen a tag along car in a while.

Then I heard a UP freight was coming up from Broussard.

I'd meet it at Alligator Point.

It and the fog was rolling in.

It was a strange fog.

 Careful attention will net you this:  the engines are different models, not just different colors or 

different companies.  Hobbies can create an eternity  of sub phylums whose tentacles can entrap
your every thought.  I've been there and returned. It is a fearsome place.

 And seemingly redundant pictures.

The L&D short line train was to follow the big freight.

I was not prepared as it was quickly behind the behemoth.

It was at the station and I was far behind.  You can't beat a train, even a very slow one, sometimes.

 I heard they were headed out the BR Branch toward Breaux Bridge and not to the yard.

That was perfect because the weather would be chasing me home and I needed to get going
in that direction.

 Waiting to be switched onto the BR.

 The old Alexandria Branch of the Southern Pacific RR lay between me and the L&D.
There is  history in this place, more than readily appears.

 This picture was a test shot for what I've always wanted, a good picture from Baker Brick.

My camera's battery died at this point. 

Dead batteries seemed to be the theme of the day.

 There was once a time when I'd have thrown down the bike and gone into a rabid exhibition of bad taste. These days I reroute all that anger into  positive action.

I'd just let the damn train run over me.

 Here's how it and I went down.

I can't believe you clicked that, you morbid perverted person.
Shame on you.

Chickening out, my positive action went as dead 

as those batteries, I stepped aside.

But still stayed pretty close.

Maybe not that close.

I headed to the recycling plant (rip) and got lost in the milk weed, falling down and skinning my knee.

I have no idea what kind of car that is.

Good Ol' Mz Utah was the tail gunner, a fitting position for  her.

I went to the salt mine and here she came.

Very slowly and blowing smoke. There is a pretty good incline from the Vermilion River Trestle,

a place I lust to be.

A farewell shot of Ol' 52 was taken and I hauled it home through a white out rain storm.

I sat down in front of the computer to look at my booty for the day.

I passed out, my batteries completely dead from weeks of little sleep.

I awoke 4 hours later having experienced  more than a few very strange dreams.
I suggest not listening to a woman dispatcher on train radio while trying to nap.
Why couldn't those batteries have gone dead, too?