tramp and dogs

In April 1982 I was headed down to Los Angeles for some reason or another when my train stopped in Bakersfield to change crews. The longer I sat in the yard waiting to leave, the more I felt like delaying my arrival in Smogland as long as I could. Finally putting action to words, I rolled up my gear and took off toward the sea of Mexican restaurants that awaited me in town. Still feeling a certain kinship with the freightyard, I circled back and met this tramp and his dogs. I spent a very enjoyable hour or two chatting with him, and it made the trip to LA seem almost fun... somehow.