Railyards

Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line.
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine.
An' I said, "Oh, I didn't know that,
But then again, there's only one I've met
An' he just smoked my eyelids
An' punched my cigarette."
- B. Dylan

Today I pulled myself away from the spreadsheets and e-mails and got dirty at work We have railcars full of biodiesel at a yard in Mount Vernon and today I learned how to unload them into a tanker trucks to send off to points north and south. It is nice to see how the nuts and bolts of our company work. And to come home with the sweet smell of biodiesel on my clothes and grease under my fingernails made for a hearty and fulfilling day.

But that will change, as tomorrow I am off to San Francisco with our dog and pony show, donning my suit and tie and suspenders and wingtips, and courting investors in our California project.

By the way, I pulled this picture off the Internet (it looks like somewhere in Wyoming) - our rail cars are much shinier, which means they are more slippery at eight a.m. when they are covered by the morning frost. Safety counts, as it is a long fall from the top of these tank cars.

I am not certain when I write next, although we are staying in our favorite San Fran motel, which is cheap as dirt, and right in the middle of everything. And thankfully we can take Bart and Muni everywhere. Not driving in the city makes it so much more enjoyable.