While driving to Austin this evening, just as I was about to cross the Brazos River, I notice some people standing on the railroad tracks. Just some punk kids,
I though at first. But as I got closer, I realized they really were three Punk kids, all dressed in leather: one with a spiked red mohawk, one with an orange
one, and one with a blue one. They just seemed to be standing there talking. What they were doing out in the middle of nowhere like that, I have no clue, nor
how they got there. But not what I expected to see if a fairly rural setting like that old railroad trestle.