The Real Deal

Last week, while in the village of Vesuvius voting, I was fortunate enough to be near the train tracks to hear a train approaching from the south.

I ran to the tracks and looked, but I could not see a train, yet....

What seemed like ten minutes, but was probably more like one; I finally saw the train inch around the bend - still a ways off.  The lights on the front of the engine provided the necessary focal point to ascertain the actual train moving against the dull background of the wooded hillsides lining the tracks.

The lights got closer, and so did the grinding of the rolling wheels.

I quickly moved to the actual railroad crossing for what I thought would be my best vantage point.

The ding, ding, ding of the crossing gate sounded, the red and white striped bar slowly lowered.  I had to move out of the way or else I would get struck by the gate.  I wanted to be as close to the tracks as possible, I wanted the real deal feel of the train as it passed.

A few cars and trucks were detained on both sides of the tracks as the train neared - not many, though, since this crossing is not well-traveled.

 

Finally, the engine's whistle blew as it approached the Route 56 road junction.  I was smiling, I was excited.  I was within ten feet of the moving mass of steel.  I could feel the vibrations.  I could feel the power. 

I watched as each train car passed me by - some decorated with graffiti, others not.  Each specific car was carrying a specific load - box cars, oil tankers, flatbeds.  I watched the wheels turn round; metal against metal with some screeching, but mostly with a regular rhythm.

The last car of the train  passed, the crossing gate raised, the waiting vehicles traversed the tracks, and I watched the train continue north out of sight.

Now, I have a vivid picture to bring up from the depths of my memory vault when I hear, and do not see, the train at the farm.

But, most of all, I am anxious for my next train encounter....