Thinking back to my freight riding days over thirty years ago, I always rode where it was safe: the end of grain cars, empty box cars, empty auto racks. I was always discreet, no wandering around, no being obvious, in general trying not to be a pain in the ass. In those days if you didn't act a fool the railroad police would usually leave you alone, and the crews never seemed to mind. I remember a brakeman in Shelby, Montana showing me to an empty boxcar that I rode all the way to Spokane, Washington. Good times. That guy's moustache screams, "I'm a douche!".