My life as a railroad hobo – part 1
The first time you taste possum you begin to question if this is what you really want to be doing with your time. It’s got a gritty taste, like lamb rubbed down with sandpaper, and the scent. Well, no amount of cheap whiskey or vomit will wash that out of your mouth. So needless to say, it makes you begin to question the choices you’ve made. Thing is, when the rails catch up to you, eventually you’ll eat whatever you can find. It was somewhere in Tennessee, I think — the details are still a little foggy — but it was the first bite I’d had since leaving Kentucky and besides, if you find someone on the tracks will to share his dinner you don’t…
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