Riding the Rails

The question came up occasionally as an ice breaker at parties—what’s the first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Jake’s answer was always the same.

“I’d buy an old caboose,” he’d say. The other people at the party would see the dreamy intensity in his eyes and know this was something he’d put a lot of thought into. “I’d have it set up in the back yard and turn it into my writing studio.”

He knew, somehow, he’d be able to write better in a room like that than in the corner of the dining room he used for his office now. The words would chug right along like a train going down the tracks. He wouldn’t have any more fits and starts, squeezing the words out one at a time with each one causing cramps in his brain. He’d be like King or Oates, so prolific the publishing world couldn’t keep up with his output.

Jake never won the lottery, and he never managed to finish a book, but by the time he was ready to retire he’d saved a nice chunk of change. He found an old caboose for sale and got his wife to agree to the purchase, provided he had it set up where no one could see it from the street. So that was what he did.

On the first day of his retirement, Jake finished his breakfast, packed himself a sack lunch and went out to his studio. He had a place to write and now he had the time to write. He would finally be able to write the way he’d always wanted to.

The words didn’t come any easier. He supposed, deep down, he wasn’t surprised.

That didn’t mean he was disappointed with the caboose, though. The caboose was perfect. Now, when the words weren’t there, instead of staring at a blank wall feeling stupid he could look out the window and pretend he was a hobo riding the rails, or James Bond on the trail of a criminal, or a war hero coming home to his sweetheart. He might only commit 200 words to paper during a day in his studio, but he lived so many stories in his head he felt as if he’d had a productive and adventurous day.

Jake was thankful they didn’t need more money, because he knew he’d never make any as a writer. He was happy, though. When he came back to the house in the afternoons and showed his wife just how happy he was feeling these days, she agreed the caboose was the smartest purchase they’d ever made.