I'm in an old railroad yard with a fanlike delta of innumerable branching tracks. Many are derelict, half-sunken. I know they mean old training. Old, OLD training! Lessons from past lives.

I need to get to the far end of the delta. Walk toward it, then realize it'd be faster to turn around and return to my bike and ride there! Easier still to take the trolley, it only costs a dime. If the trolley were here, that is, and if I had a dime, if I could make myself part with a dime... oh hell, be realistic, THAT'll never happen. Get the bike.

Both going and coming, I must watch out for trains creeping up on me silently, around corners!

I meet some old folks in shacks by the switching yard who say "What's that? Is that a bike?" They truly don't know. Wow, they must have been sittin' on the reincarnation porch a LONG time!

When I say I'm headed back to the main line, the source... they all want to know if they can follow ME! Soon a gaggle of shambling hobos follow me like ducklings behind mom.

Caught in dead-end lives, seeking the source... I kind of wonder if I'm laying centuries-old ghosts to rest, or freeing them to be reborn. Never seen a BIKE? They gotta be... old.

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