Rich enough to run a train around my whole property along the property line in lieu of a fence. Rich enough to hire a professional hobo to ride that rail, chewing on genetically modified straw, blowing sad lonesome tunes through the harmonica equivalent of a Stradivarius. Rich enough to pay someone else to rig the bridge with dynamite so I can push the plunger and send the whole train to hell and I’m going to do it someday. Or pay someone to do it, which is like: Close enough.