The front hubs on the Bronco had obviously never been turned before. It took all the strength I had in my wrists to slowly move the hubs a hundred and eighty degrees. Finally, they were turned. I got back in the Bronco, backed up, and faced the six-foot-high berm of sand. I gunned the Bronco’s engine and depressed the clutch, about to launch myself and the vehicle forward in first gear to as fast as it would go before encountering the dune. I looked up and down the railway to make sure there were no trains coming. There was nothing. But then I backed off on the accelerator and, instead of heading toward the sand in front of me, I turned and drove a short distance toward San Clemente. A narrow cleft was visible in the giant rocks that the railroad had, years earlier, set along the tracks to block or at least lessen the damage high tide big surf waves might cause to the tracks.

I eased the Bronco into the cleft. There was enough clearance to fit through. I drove directly onto the tracks, then had to begin a laborious process of moving the Bronco back and forth, gaining a better angle to actually get on the tracks each time. It took about fifteen back and forth movements to succeed. Suddenly, I was on the tracks pointed south. I eased the Bronco ahead in first gear. The trip was only about three hundred yards long before I was at the asphalt crossing. I turned up onto the path and then stopped the vehicle, with the V8 humming gently away.

Don's Miss any Updates or New Chapters

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from our team.

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Shares
Share This