"Cargo Trains", original art. Story Of Childhood Adventures

As far as I can stretch my memory, I always loved trains. Trains remind me of my childhood pals and our dangerous daring games.

Cargo train under Terminal Avenue. 55inch oil on canvas.

My mom used to tell us not to go close to the rails. We loved her, but we knew very well that she doesn't posses magic wall-piercing eyesight, so we still hang out by the rails all the time. Me and my buddy Ladik, who I knew since age of 3. Already in the kindergarten we got the label of naughty boys who were hard to manage. We operated on the same frequency, which summed up to: lets do something exciting.

Unfortunately our idea of something exciting was often dangerous, and most of the time illegal. Climb a roof, break into neighbor's orchard, make a huge fire, cross thin ice on the freshly frozen river, ride through a water surplus pipe in an electric hydro plant (that was nuts), jump from a bridge, squeeze on the back bumper of a bus and hold tight between two stops while cars were honking at our ludicrous stupidity, or just ride our bikes standing on the saddle with arms stretched wide. The only difference between me and him was that I got great marks at school, while he got crappy ones, so he got more hell at home. I only got beaten for my misbehavior, which was already plenty enough for me.

Back in our days, physical punishments at school were a norm. I still remember clearly how me and Ladik were sent off to principals office every other day. Our teacher would pull down our pants and slap our naked buttocks (either by hand or by leather quirt) in front of unimpressed eyes of our fat principal. I actually liked him. He had kind voice and always seemed pleased to see us. “Oh you boys again, common in. What did you do this time?”. I don't think he was a creep that would enjoy seeing our small penises. These were just different times in different world. Ladik got the same beating once in front of the whole class, and that sucked, cause there were girls. So I got lucky.

Cargo wagons with view of Lions snowy peaks (guarding Vancouver) in the background.

But lemme get back to the railways. On one memorable weekend we broke into the massive metallurgy factory in our hood and through the roof got into one of the well guarded buildings. Spiderman would be jealous of our skill. What we found changed our childhood forever. A huge piles of stones that were made of an alloy which, if thrown on ground, or scraped against metal, released an array of sparkles along with mighty snapping sound. Oh my, how we rejoiced!

It didn't take us long to figure out the best possible use of our treasure: put them on the railways and wait for the train to pass. I still feel the thrill, lying on our bellies in the bushes right by the rails, hearing the approaching beast of heavy cargo train howling with rage. The light of the front lights blazing through the dark, shaking the ground with its heavy weight, just about to run over the cubes. The explosion was beautiful beyond words. We would never put the ordinary stones on the rails again unless we ran out of the sparkly alloys. It was infinitely more fun.

Such were days of our childhood, and trains were a romantic song that would keep on resonating in my chest to this day. Little did I know that I would travel the four corners of this earth in all sorts of trains, still a little rebellious boy at heart, craving adventure, unknown horizons and hot wind on my face.

Thank you for reading and for following me,
More train paintings coming soon!

Much Love on your journey,

Jan @jankasparec

I looked like an angel, but I was part time devil.