Status: | Region: | Type: | Gallery: |
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Abandoned | New Jersey | Rail Road | 32 Photos |
The rail cars sit idle like a fresh kill, slumped across a forest floor awaiting final slaughter. A veil of greenery encapsulates the faded red, white, and blue pinstripe metal locomotive bodies, spotted with rust stains of neglect; a paint scheme which distinctly protrudes through the overgrowth of the encroaching dense summer vegetation. Ivy springing up between splintered rail ties below snakes about the guts of the train's undercarriages, entangling and anchoring the massive steel axles to the rail lines with a stranglehold.
An ajar door along the backside of one of the locomotives resembles a deep flesh wound, allowing access into the sweltering carcass. Inside the industrial organs remain, however long void of any vital signs. Severed fuel lines wrap around every nook and corner of the engine room, extending with unison into the V12 diesel engine, which stretches down the darkened steel chest cavity chamber of the locomotive. All the while, the internal temperature continues rocketing to an unbearable level, as mid-summer sun rays incessantly beat down upon the exterior of the metal skeleton. A cracked window within the train's cab provides a bit a relief as a stream of cooler air is able to squeeze through. The mildew tinted engineer's window manages to filter out the glare of the sun while still allowing ample light to fill the cabin, illuminating the array of curious gauges and levers.
Positioning myself within the operator's seat a puff of dust expels from the soiled fabric as my weight sinks into the grimy sun baked cushion. Reclined, I contemplate the variety of duties one must master in order to commandeer such a monstrous machine along an endless path of iron rail. Slipping into a heat induced daydream, flashes of infamous rail catastrophes play through my disturbed mind as does no-sooner a bead of sweat enter my left eye awaking me back into a stinging reality. With perspiration now beginning to flow with current like motion down my forehead, I decide to make an exit, leaving time to explore the various other rotting rolling stock carcasses decaying about the sultry bone yard.