My friends and I would ride trains during the mid eighties in Boston, except we rode on the outside of them. I didn?t have any money as a teenager, so despite the fatal risks involved, it seemed like an economical option at the time. At first, we just rode on the back of the train, standing on the hitch and holding on to the windshield wipers at 50-60 mph. But as we realized that we were immortal, we began to explore other options. These included getting on the roof of an electrically powered train and laying 6 inches below a very dangerous electrical wire. This was usually used when there was a significant group of us and we needed to make space on the hitch for the less experienced or athletic. Our record was 14 people clinging on the train for a few miles.
I did some things that were spectacularly stupid, though. Riding the side of a train as an opposing train passed. This left me scant space between a 120 mph mathematical theory. I never did that again. I also used to ride the rail in wet or snowy weather. The rain or wet snow left a surface that heeled boots could glide on when you stood on the steel rails. I did this for more than a mile at 50-60 mph, holding on to the train, numerous times.
I became a nuisance to the MBTA police and they began to set traps to catch us. A train abruptly stopping where the police were waiting would result in a flurry of 14-17 year old kids outrunning the cops. This one time in particular, sticks in my mind 24 years later, though. I was on the mirror assembly on the side-ish part of the train when some passengers were pointing and smiling from the inside. They were cute college aged women taking pictures of me. I guess the train operator heard them, or some cops at the station noticed us, and began slowing the train. It abruptly stopped in a fenced corridor of tracks when a couple of cops came running towards us from the station we just left. I was so cocky that I stayed on the back of the train flirting with a woman inside of it, glancing occasionally at the police running closer. The woman was looking at them and appeared concerned, too. When I was done playing chicken, I said goodbye and smiled to the girl, leaped over a 6 foot hurricane fence and was a foot away from the cop with and fence between us, when I smiled and jogged away. Ah, youth. To be 15 again.