They don't cuff us or search us or haul us in, they just throw us off the train. But get back on is just what we have to do. We're in the middle of nowhere with little money, and our only ride out of here leaves in a few minutes. So we crawl through a field and end up in a gravel parking lot on the other side of the train, sweating and tired and knowing that as soon as that train starts moving, we're on it or we're fucked. From where we lie we can see that the fourth car back is a boxcar, its door wide open.
Boxcars ride higher than other cars, about five feet off the ground.
This coupled with the fact that train tracks are usually built atop gravel slopes means that vaulting into an open boxcar requires a serious vertical leap. Eddy Joe tells me that boxcars have no ladders or ledges, so the plan is to run alongside the car, toss our gear inside, dive headfirst onto the slick metal floor, and pull our asses in. And we've got to keep our legs out straight, board stiff, because if they dip or sag, then hello, wheels and good-bye, legs. Trains normally accelerate slowly, giving you time to catch up with them, jump them, and pull yourself safely inside. Not this one.