Fuck, I hope this sends

Since we last saw Jack, the internet on this thing's been on the fritz, it hasn't been sending messages or blog posts.
Well, since we saw him in the bar.

Since I did at least. Mary's gone... Nothing sinister, we just weren't getting along any more. I think the whole Jack business was just weirding her out, getting to her. I've not been able to message or call her for about four days now, connection quality is getting worse.

Just wanna keep you guys up to date, and let  you know that

-you are expected-

Peace out, guys!

We decided to stop by in one of the local bars in the town we're in at the moment.

Jack's back.

He was just... sitting there, in the first pub we found, doing whiskey shots, one after the other at the bar. It was like he was waiting for us, almost. His arms outta the sling and cast but it looks... Burnt, almost. The skin's all red and scabbed. His clothes look rattier than usual, his long coat's tattered at the ends, and he's grown a bit of a scruffy goatee on his chin. 

As saw him, he looked me square in the eye and stood up. I started to greet him, but he just... Turned and ran. He dashed out to the bathroom, knocking aside a rather chubby guy with a beer. I followed him into the bathroom, hearing a cubicle shut as I entered... But there was no-one there.

We haven't seen Jack since.

Hey guys, I'm posting this while I eat a sandwich in a crappy little cafe, so I may have to type quick cos this sandwich is nearly gone and the staff sure look like they wanna shoo me out.

Mary and I got a lift from a truck driver, really nice guy. Gave us some coffee too from the truckstop he picked us up from. If you're reading this, Jim, thank you for helping out a stranger in need. I owe you a coffee!

She was pretty shook up after what happened in the bar. She's been quite quiet, and her hair's all over the place... Still looks damn good  though.

Goddamnit I hope she doesn't read this blog.

Well, time to head off for a bit, Mary wants to leave and that waitress is starting to look angry.

Talk soon! Peace out guys

So we had one eventful Paddy's Day.
A goddamn barfight. Of all the days of the year for me to get dragged into a fight, Saint Bloody Patrick's Day

So  Mary and I are in one of those "Irish Pub" places that try far too hard to actually seem Irish, and we're having a few drinks (as you do, 'tis the season etc.) and this dude comes up to the table and yanks back Mary's hair, hard. It's kinda long (black too, god I need to talk to y'all about  her some day) so back she went, her head angled back against the back of the chair.

I stood up, of course, and went to shove the guy away. I got a better look at him then. He was old, his hair lank, grey and receding. His face was bloated, and he looked like he'd had a lot to drink (though I couldn't smell much booze off him). His skin was pale, tinged a dull green, like he was ill.

As I came close to him, he grabbed out at my shirt and swung me around towards him. The bastard was strong. He shoved me back, but I came at him again, trying to grab his arm and stop him pulling on Mary's hair. He used his free hand to elbow me as I made a move, and it caught me straight on the temple. I went down, and there's an awful lump where he got me.

When I came to my senses, Mary filled me in. The guy had left, the rest of the bar had started to notice, she told me. He leaned in, still holding here, and snarled: "Where's Jack?" He asked. She said she didn't know.

I've not seen Jack for a couple of days. My theory is that he skipped town, broken arm or not. He seems to have some enemies here, so I ain't surprised. Mary doesn't feel safe here any more, so we're gonna try and get out in the next few days.

'Till the next time, guys.

Ahhh, Saint Patrick's Day Eve.
A day in which we all pretend to be from some little island off the coast of Europe for a day, and unintentionally insult said country by vomiting all over our friends in the name of their patron saint.

I'm game for it, hells yeah. Mary and I are going out for drinks (green beer and all), so expect me to be blogging with a hangover next time I post, eh? Hehe. Jack's been hanging about with us, though he says he'll be skipping town as soon as his arm's all healed up. In the meantime I'm gonna be exploring town a little more, found this second-hand bookstore that you can almost get lost in. Hate not being able to carry many books with me on the trains, but I do like having a paperback to keep me company.

Till the hangover, peace out

Hey fellas. On cafe wi-fi at the moment, but hey. I bought a coffee. It'll be grand.

I've fallen back in with Mary, nothing serious at the moment, just travelling, but maybe it'll actually work out this time. Only time will tell, eh?

Also, we ran into the dude from the train! The one who hopped off while we stopped, Mary and I got talking to this scruffy looking guy, and whaddya know, not only is he a hitchhiker, but he was on the same train as me!
He calls himself Jack, and he's pretty sound. We've been hanging out around the local bars with us while we plan our next move. Guy's got his arm in a sling, says he busted it up pretty bad doing construction work two weeks back. Some back-alley doctor stitched him up, cost him a lot though, he says.

He said that there was another 'hiker on the same car as him, so he wanted to get outta there ASAP. He's no clue why we stopped either. Sound bloke though.

Till the next time guys

Hey, been a while.

Ran into Mary again. She’s an old… companion from when I started.
We met hitchhiking, I showed her how to hop trains, we… Yeah. It’s complicated, but we’re on good terms so it’s okay.
I caved, we’re staying in a hostel for the night, and I’m getting ready to head out to the bar with Mary to catch up. It’s been a long time.

Peace.

Stop

feck-dammit

I’m on the move again, but the weirdest damn thing just happened. We were cruising along, open countryside, when the goddamn train just stops. And this isn’t some slow descent to a calm trundle, I mean it just snaps, bam, to a halt. Threw me down, took an awful knock to the head in the process. (In an old boxcar again). I get scared, so after I regained my wits I slid the door open a crack to see if maybe the engine had derailed, or if we’d hit something on the tracks.

Nope. None of that, the engine was just sitting there, still very much on the tracks. No crew, no police, no bulls in pickups riding alongside the train. Not a single soul, til I see this shabby guy walking away from another boxcar a few down from me. Looks like we had another hitchhiker on board! Woulda loved the meet him, it’s always good to have company on these trips (I didn't call out to him though, 'cos you do meet the occasional hostile ‘hiker).

We're on the move again, I didn't catch how the guy looked, we were a good few cars away from each other. Peace out

Do Anything You Want To

Okay, y'know how I said I like to keep clean?

I LIKE to keep clean, doesn't exactly mean that I do keep clean. On some occasions (eg now) I do have to go without a shower for quite a while. I've been taking short hops mostly, relatively local state freight travel. Will post again once I'm back in civilisation, eh? (Also, got some music on this phone of mine. Good to be travelling with a bit of Thin Lizzy again, makes those journeys last that little bit shorter. Even though I'm a bit low on cash, it was damn well worth it) (Actually, in case you hadn't noticed, the blog's title is a bit of a play on a Thin Lizzy album. I'm a fan, okay? Leave me alone)

Peace out.

Phew

Goddamn life-saver, guys. Solar. Power. Charger.

Phone died on me while I was in an old boxcar, didn’t know what the hell to do. Not the best at planning ahead, me. Not sure it’d be best to say -where- I am online, for all to see, so for now… Let’s just say I’m West, eh?  In a hostel for the night, made some cash busking today. I carry about a ukulele, and don’t you dare tell me it ain’t an instrument.

Peace out.

Nothin' Beats The Life

Ha, finally saved enough cash to buy a phone good enough to blog from. Told ya so, Mike.

The name’s Eric, Eric Donaliso, and I guess you’d call me a hobo. Not that there’s any more eloquent thing to call me. I ride the railroads, hitching lifts on train cars.
Now, I’m not one of those stereotypical, crusty, crazy old guys with grizzled unkempt hair who you’d imagine hitched lifts on the trains. I like to keep myself clean, and I’m twenty-four years old. Been on the move since I was nineteen.

Saved up some cash from odd jobs, and now I’ve this second-hand smartphone to blog from. Hope y’all enjoy these adventures, peace.