Member-only story
Riding the Coal Hoppers as a Teen
A dangerous and senseless pastime
When I was in my early teens, I sometimes kicked about with friends who lived on a neigbouring estate. One of the attractions there was a railway line that ran along the bottom of several back gardens. Diesel engines on this line hauled hoppers, which we called trucks, full of coal from the nearby Bates’ colliery, now long since closed and demolished. With that blindness to danger that many teenagers suffer from, we used to ride on those hoppers for kicks.
The railway held a great attraction for us as kids (Stand By Me had nothing on us). The barrier of thick hawthorn bushes that ran along the bottom of the gardens had been breached in several places, where boltholes had been opened up, and through these we gained access to the railway. We laid all manner of items on the line, to see the effect of the wheels of a heavy train rolling over them, including pennies, a six inch nail and a dead rat. But the real thrills came via riding the hoppers.
Waiting for a Train
We sat by the side of the track, chatting and smoking while waiting for our ride to arrive. When I saw the yellow and black chevrons of the engine appear underneath a nearby road bridge, I would be almost pole-axed in a fit of excited butterflies.
