What does 'Train' mean?

Train

Uncle James, a New York cab driver, was my favorite uncle. He would always bring me a gift or money whenever he came to visit. So when he popped up one day, which he would frequently do unannounced, I was ecstatic. I asked him to take me home back to my mother.

“Ask your grandmother,” he told me. “If she says yes, I'll take you.”

I decided against asking Ada Mama, but came up with an- other plan. On the last day of his visit, I asked him one more time to take me home. Same question. Same answer. “No.”

Late in the afternoon, while Ada Mama and Uncle James were busy talking with a neighbor, I picked up the hoola hoop he had given to me, sneaked off unnoticed from the house, ran down the path to the tracks onto the main highway and headed for the train station in Weldon. My plan was to get on the train, hide in the bathroom until the train stopped in Philadelphia.

Cars whisked by me and I tried to count them all while I twirled the hoola hoop around my waist. A light colored gray car that I recognized as Uncle James’ car zoomed pass me. I waved
and hollered at him to stop, but the car sped out of sight.

More resolute than ever, I walked faster. Evening came and I grew tired of walking and was hungry. Crickets began to chatter, and the sunny fall day cooled down. I was sleepy and cold without a coat. I stopped, sat down on the side of the highway to rest and a car pulled up behind me. I looked behind me, facing into blinding headlights. I stood up when I saw a man get out of the car. He was the tallest man I’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, son?” I didn't answer.

“Where you going?”

I gripped my hoola hoop.

“Where do you live?”

He walked over to where I was standing. He was so tall I couldn't see his face when I looked up at him.

Would you like a ride?”

“Yeah.”

“Hop in, son.” The man walked me to his car, placed me in the back seat, and took me to a building and sat me down at a desk.

“We got a dangerous criminal here, Sergeant,” he said, laughing, pointing his finger at me.
Another man came over, also very tall.

“What do we have here?” he wanted to know.

“The kid was sitting on the side of the highway. Just sitting there with his hoola hoop. I asked him for his name and he wouldn’t tell me. He wouldn’t even tell me where he lives. All I could do
is bring him in.”

The man pulled up a chair next to mine. “Let me give it a try. He belongs to somebody.”
“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Got my dinner over on my desk, Joe. Go fetch it for the kid.”

Joe brought over a big sandwich and a can soda. I began eating before he was able to get another word out. The two men kept silent while I ate. When I was just about finished, the man asked me once again where I lived. This time I told him as best I could about Ada Mama, where I was going, and how I was going to get there.

“Pretty smart kid,” the man said. “He talks a little funny. My kid stutters like that when he gets a little excited.”

“Yeah, but he has it all figured out,” said the tall man. “What do we do with him…take him to the train station?”

“He has to go back to his grandmother’s place. It’s not like she kidnapped him.”

“Tonight?”

“No, we will wait to the morning. Take the kid over to Miss Elliott’s house for the night. She has a couple foster kids there. We will take him back to Tillery in the morning.”

I was too full and sleepy to argue.