Trains have played a significant role in my life, evoking a multitude of memories.
Years ago, I had to deal with trains at least twice a day during the week, and unfortunately, they would often break down. I distinctly remember a particular instance when I had to pull off the road and wait for the train to pass. I even had to call my job to explain the delay, only to find out they had also encountered issues reaching work an hour before me.
During cool weather, the office would open its doors to let fresh air in. Since my job is located close to the tracks, the passing trains can be quite loud. I recall one time when a train’s noise bothered my boss, but I must respectfully disagree, as it didn’t bother me as much.
Let me take you back to a flashback from my fourth-grade field trip to Virginia in “Fife of Drum.” Early in the morning at 4 am, I found myself locked in the bathroom, and it took them a whole 45 minutes to free me. By the time they succeeded, all my classmates were already up, and I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.
Another memory takes me back to when I was twelve years old. It was a time when my mom and I embarked on a bus journey to West Virginia, seeking refuge from the authorities who were urging me to testify against my dad for the things he had inflicted upon me. The kind gesture of a male passenger offering me the back seat, which resembled a bed, made the arduous 22-hour journey a bit more bearable.
Despite reaching West Virginia, our journey didn’t end there. We ended up in Indiana, where an old family friend took us in. However, tensions arose when one of the household’s children had to give up their bed for us, and their displeasure was evident. My room was on the second floor, and the bed was on the top bunk next to a window. I remember lying there with my earphones on, listening to Starship’s “We Built This City” when the window began to vibrate. It turned out to be a passing train, and surprisingly, I felt calm and safe, a feeling I hadn’t experienced until that point, having felt so alone before.
On my last birthday, I had the opportunity to ride the Sunrail, the commuter train near my location, and it was a cool and enjoyable experience.
I also recall an Easter spent at a bar on a Harley, right beside the train tracks. Every time a train passed by, they would ring a bell and offer shots, creating a unique and memorable celebration.
Currently, I commute to work by car and must cross three sets of train tracks. There was one occasion when I got stopped at all three crossings, resulting in a lengthy journey home. But, typically, in the mornings, I manage to miss encountering any trains.
Throughout my life, trains have left an indelible mark, each memory carrying its own story, making them an integral part of my personal history.