You can never tell what might happen when you hop a freight train. I've always been fascinated by trains, but I stumbled upon freight hopping purely by accident.

In the spring of 1974, I led a group of geography students on a field trip up into the rugged Tehachapi Mountains. While we were having lunch near some train tracks, two or three trains rolled by. The last one stopped to wait for another train slowly powering its way up the steep grade.

Sitting right in front of us was an empty boxcar with both doors wide open. I didn't say anything to my students, of course, but a thrilling possibility came to mind. I could climb into the boxcar and have a great ride as the train wound its way through the scenic mountains down to Bakersfield.

I couldn't help myself. The very next day, I phoned a friend and suggested we try this out. Another friend caught wind of the crazy plan and wanted to join us. So Saturday morning, the three of us piled into my Fiat and headed for the little town of Mojave, just south of the Tehachapi Mountains. This is where I guessed freight trains would stop. If we could get on a train there, maybe we could ride all the way to Bakersfield.

The three of us got front row seats in a coffee shop that looked out onto the tracks to wait for our moment. In half an hour, a train pulled in and stopped. No employees in sight.

At this point, the tag-along friend got cold feet and backed out, but he agreed to drive my car along the highway that we hoped would at some point be near the tracks before we got to Bakersfield. My gutsy friend and I were nervous and excited as we climbed into an open boxcar and scrambled to hide in the corner. Our hearts pounded. No employee had looked in to see us.

Ten minutes later, the train lurched forward. We were on our way. What a thrill! And what vivid mountain scenery! The train took us up into the Tehachapi Mountains and then started its steep descent through a series of tunnels and sharp curves. A couple of hours later, the train slowed and stopped. There was no station up ahead, but I did see a green Border Patrol van. Oh boy, this could be problematic because my friend was not a U.S. citizen.

But just as we debated our next move, what we did see was my little Fiat convertible driving up and stopping not too far from us. What a relief! We raced across to the car, jumped in, and got out of there fast. What a crazy, wonderful day!

Jump ahead a few months. In Wyoming, at a two-week field ecology workshop run by the Audubon Society, I met Nancy, who, a few months later, became my bride. I brought her to California. She has been my soulmate and the love of my life. We had many common interests, but one thing that Nancy was pleased to share during the next couple of years before we had children was riding freight trains through the great mountains, valleys, canyons, plains, farmlands, and towns of the West.

One Saturday, Nancy and I decided to see the coast of California from a new perspective. In our local rail yard, an employee amazingly helped us find a freight heading north. We climbed aboard, the train began to move, and we crossed the San Fernando Valley and headed into the mile-long tunnel under the Simi Hills. After passing through much farmland, we came close to the coast. and could see the beautiful Pacific Ocean, how thrilling it was to be with Nancy on that train...