Wagon Train

Down the block, what appeared as a covered wagon straight out of a phony B Western rolled through an intersection of my neighborhood.

Except for this covered wagon was being pulled by a man wearing a harness of some kind.

I was driving and halted at a STOP sign. Gray clouds dominated the sky.

Yes, a mini covered wagon. I’d seen them before around town. One of the neighborhood homeless men lived in one constructed upon a tiny trailer.

The coast was clear and I began to to take my foot off the brake when I looked up and saw another covered wagon behind the first one. It was being pushed by a woman.

Another covered wagon followed closely behind. Then another. The last one had a mutt riding on top.

I stared at a homeless wagon train and they rolled down the street, not the sidewalk.

Did they have a Ward Bond-type as leader? Did they eat beans and drink coffee around a campfire?

I’ve written elsewhere about this reverse modern Oregon Trail—a wagon train heading not to the mythic Promised Land and starting over with a homestead. But journeying an urban trail of survival and dissipation.

Do they circle the wagons at night?