Last week a few friends and I decided to have a late night adventure. And for a bunch of 22-year-olds, adventures mean exploring, and under the cover of night, that means the taboo rules all: train yards.
Entry. Woops.
The Christkicker backpatch--a cycling group in the Boston area.
Walking the tracks. Sorry Mom and Dad.
Caboose entry.
I have a tendency to catch people mid sentence.
A fallen soldier, fatality of the train yard.
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