Friday, April 11, 2014

Handcar Horizons

In many of my dreams I find myself alone on a handcar, pumping the handle up and down, propelling myself down the railway track. It is always summer, the landscape is always beautiful, and I never get tired. The sun never sets, but I'm never too hot. Sometimes there's a cooler resting on the handcar and I reach down and pull out an ice-cold bottle of Coca-Cola, dripping with condensation.

I never need to worry about colliding with a train, for there are no other travellers on this track; there is only me on my handcar, and I have all the time in the world to chase the never-setting sun. The only sounds are the steel wheels tumbling along the track and, sometimes, the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.

It's a good life that goes on forever. 

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