In May 1971 my friend Peter Gorr and I hitchhiked from Boston on I-90 to Utica and then headed north to Old Forge in the Adirondacks. The day got late and night fell on a silent road in the Mountain No traffic either way. We called our friends to pick us up. Standing some twenty miles from trans-continental tracks, we heard a west-bound train. Fifty years plus later I well remember the distant clickety-clack with fondness.
Photo O Winston Link
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