My fascination with trains dates
back to when I was knee-high to a grasshopper growing up a block away from a
very busy multi-track route near the old Dorsey High School in Liberty
City/Miami, Florida. We would experience trains coming and going all hours
of the day and throughout the night. So much that I eventually became immune to
the whistle blowing and the sounds and rhythm of the steel wheels interacting
with the steel tracks. It was even more fascinating to see those steel-tracked
monsters up close and personal as I crossed those same tracks many times on my
way to the other side alone and with neighbors and childhood friends. We would
oftentimes play a very dangerous game of chicken to see who would be the first
to jump out of the way of a fast moving train. Occasionally we would actually
board a slow moving train by running alongside it, grabbing hold of anything
stable, and then jumping up to one of the foot stops near the bottom. One time
this dangerous game turned deadly as my cousin lost his footing and was nearly
cut in half by the train’s wheels as he struggled to regain his footing before
safely letting go. Needless to say that was our last time engaging in that type
fun.
I would often find myself
wondering where each train was coming from and more importantly where they were
going. In fact, I was tempted to jump one of those steel wonders with my back
pack and just get off somewhere far away from where I was living. Believe it or
not, these massive modes of transportation and shipping would occasionally get
stopped dead in their tracks as the result of neighborhood gangs placing
certain items directly in their path. They would then help themselves to
whatever cargo that particular train was hauling just like a heist straight
from TV. I of course did not participate in this type thievery. Fast forward to
the 1980’s and I got a chance to ride a train (Amtrak) for the first
time legitimately. I traveled from Charlotte to San Antonio, Texas,
to visit relatives. The first leg of my trip was quite exciting as we chugged
our way from one town to the next and the scenery was quite memorable.
My trip took a turn for the worse
as we entered the State of Louisiana and began crossing one
swampy area after the next. Our top speed was about 25 miles per hour
and the scenery grew darker and gloomier. We then crossed over the daunting Lake
Pontchartrain which extends a whopping 40 miles long. Our car swayed
back and forth the entire trek and all that I could see was water on the left
and right. That is when I began to pray that the end of this seemingly endless
lake was near as we slowly strolled across this watery wonder. We safely made
it across to the other side and the return trip was equally as scary, grueling,
and irritating trying to eat while the diner car shifted from side to side. I
then made a promise to myself to never travel across any swampy area via
train/Amtrak.