Handsome hobo living in the past

Are there hobos anymore?

Sometimes I crave the romantic wayward hobo life and would cheerfully be one who, in order to find work, clumsily flip on freight trains to travel the nation whilst shabbily dressed in my best glad rags. That’s right I know the hobo lingo. I will use hobo jargon judiciously in this piece as I am filled with a hodgepodge of hobo history. I shall let my hobo spirit soar.

My hobo name is Sir Railcar McRussdum. Don’t confuse me as a tramp. I am a hobo.

I scoff at using shopping carts to carry my belongings as they are impractical when leaping aboard moving trains. My bindle is proudly slung over my shoulder, made from the finest gaudy patchwork blanket and tied around the end of a lavish mahogany stick etched with symbols of my creation and unknown origin. In it I carry the essentials:  MP3 player, extra changes of underclothes, peppermint patchouli soaps, biscuits, a smallish cask of bathtub gin and a picture of my family. My beard grows wild. My road stake is 75 US dollars, for emergencies. I hide that cash in a special place. 

In Britain I would be called a “rough sleeper.” I prefer “hobo” thank you.   

I am the best mulligan mixer ever because I have the finest recipe for Mulligan Stew consisting of beef broth, potatoes, carrots, celery, onions, mystery meat, spices and herbs.  Hobos abound chuck a dummy at my stew. I only share my stew with acronym B.O.T.H., the “Brotherhood of the Hobo,” and none other. So don’t even ask for a bit of my stew unless you know the secret hobo handshake and can interpret the cryptic wall signals scrawled in crayon or charcoal.

I spread misinformation of the hobo code, for security purposes, so that nobody can horde my safe zones around the country. I’m a sinister hobo, an infamous hobo and a hobo who doesn’t play by those wacky hobo rules. I create my own hobo code! Many long to know my enigmatic hobo code. 

I like the word hobo. Maybe I will name my firstborn Howard Hobo Dale if it’s a boy and Glenda Hobo Dale if it’s a girl. The possibilities are endless. I could name them Hobo only, just like celebrities Bono, Madonna and Cher.

Sir Railcar McRussdum, me, will be the most famous hobo of all time. It could happen. I would be the keynote speaker of “Hobo Days” at the National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa. Perhaps I could star in a hobo reality show like “Dancing with the Hobos,” “Survivor: HoboTown,” “CSI: Special Hobo Unit,” or science fiction classics the likes of “The Bionic Hobo,” “Flash Hobo” or “This Island Hobo.”