While I am still lying in bed, I hear the trains-a-coming, and quite enjoy their sounds because they are connected to many of my memories.
This is a story from a few years ago, but, one that I like and hope you do, too!
We have so many sounds in our community that when we hear them, we know how lucky we are to live in Dell Rapids and can actually “hear” what is going on every day. The sounds from the quarry blasts, the sounds of the train being loaded to haul the rock to many far distances, the sounds of trees being trimmed or cut down and the street cleaners coming by with the big brushes gathering all the debris and hauling it away.
I like the sound of the train best.
The first train that I rode on was the 'Galloping Goose' that would leave Egan every day at 10 a.m. and head to Flandreau, six miles away.
For 20 cents, my girlfriends and I would hop on and take a seat in the First class caboose. We would just get settled in, and then the train would be slowing down for us to get off at Flandreau.
Then the train, which hauled everything like grain, coal, mail, cattle, sheep, and a few passengers, would continue on the trip to Pipestone. From there, after changing it’s direction on the turn table, it would head to Madison.
At about 8:30 p.m., it would be stopping about three miles south of Egan at the junction. That is where teenager Dave would be waiting to join on the trip to Sioux Falls, where it would arrive about 10:30.
Dave would then start to walk to his sister and husband’s home several blocks from the train station, where he would spend a few days. One time the police stopped him because it was past curfew, but, then they were kind enough to drive him to his destination.
One wonderful, warm, sunny day, my girlfriend, Jean, and I decided we should make a picnic lunch and meander down to the pasture where we could sit and have our picnic. In those young years, we didn’t have too many pressuring issues.
We tried not to make eye contact with the cows. We soon heard the train coming, which went right below our pasture about a block away. Bright idea! We decided to run as fast as we could and get under the trestle and watch the bottom of the train as it went over us!
Have you ever sat under a trestle and watched a train from above? The closer it came, of course, the rumble sounded like the whole train would crash in on us. We were both so scared that we couldn’t move, but, actually, I was able to get out from under but could do nothing to help Jean. I was laughing too hard. I don’t know why I laugh when danger is close. I guess it is better than crying!
Like the time I was driving down Cliff Avenue with nonchalant Dave sitting next to me and I didn’t see any lights, nor hear any horn until I was about two feet from the tracks. The train that was coming saw me and pulled the horn as loud as a bomb warning. Fire flew out from my tires from braking as hard as I could, and luckily, stopped just in time to see the conductors wild look on his face.
I said to Dave, “Did you see that train?” He said, “not until I hit my head on the roof of the car!"
Dave and I spent part of our honeymoon on a train going from Omaha to San Diego. Of course, we were very excited until we realized this train was packed with so many servicemen that there were no seats available for us. We had to sit in the aisles on our suitcases (what is now called luggage) most of the way.
We were all stuck in there like sardines in a can. It was hot and miserable, to say the least. I didn’t think that I would ever ride on a train again, but, after two years, Dave had served his duty overseas, and we had a baby!
We were home in Egan for furlough. Then we did take a train again back to San Diego, but, we had a comfortable compartment with plenty of room for a tiny baby.
We were happy!
This train I loved.
"sound" - Google News
July 31, 2020 at 11:58PM
https://ift.tt/30gQUW7
The sound of trains never grows old - Argus Leader
"sound" - Google News
https://ift.tt/2MmdHZm
Shoes Man Tutorial
Pos News Update
Meme Update
Korean Entertainment News
Japan News Update
No comments:
Post a Comment