Train Crossings and Kermit the Frog
The commute to our classes today was along back roads rather than via the freeway we usually take. There is a section of road along our usual route that is being worked on and they have completely cut off traffic asking everyone to choose alternate routes. The section of road being reconstructed is specifically regarding the railroad crossing at an intersection with a particularly rough surface. I am thankful they are fixing it, though I detest the back road because there is quite often, coincidentally, a train that comes through just as we need to cross. The train has made us late to our classes countless times because it travels so painfully slowly that sometimes ten minutes will pass. If we have the unfortunate incident of leaving last minute, we are 'toast', so to speak. And so on this rainy Bellingham morning, we left ten minutes early just in case the train that crosses the back roads is snickering along the rails like a vindictive snail.
As we progressed on our back road route we got in our usual random discussions, most of which I will spare you. Feel free to thank me. We are easily amused as a rule. The part of the conversation that spurs this blog is regarding the railroad crossing being worked on that necessitated our detour today.
You see, it has this handy turn at that intersection that is more like a pair of partially opened scissors rather than an even cross and traffic sometimes needs to make a turn across traffic where they can find space between oncoming cars. It isn't much different from any other lighted intersection other than being just plain awkward. A few years ago, we were doing our usual random chatting and laughing as we followed the line of traffic and suddenly someone made a last minute decision to turn across traffic and the flow of vehicles was such that they had to sit and wait. The person in front of me had to hit their breaks abruptly to avoid hitting the last minute lefty and conversely I had to stop quickly as well. This left me on the railroad tracks, which I never stop on for obvious reasons. The light turned red and we were stuck there. I began to explain to my children, as any good mother would, that parking on a railroad crossing is best avoided. Being on the tracks is in fact much less desirable than being from the wrong side of the tracks.
"It is very dangerous to park on railroad tracks, girls," I said in my usual school teacher/mom tone. "We can just be thankful today there is no...." ding ding ding ding. The lights on the crossing started to flash and the limbs began to come down. I looked to my left and there was, at some distance thankfully, the tell tale monster sized headlamp of a train. I did my best Kermit the Frog imitation, then instinctively, hit the gas and swerved around the car that had stopped in front of me and my rear wheel went off the edge of the pavement and slammed hard on the rail, but it went over. I had to pull way up a couple of car lengths to make room for the pickup truck that had gotten caught in the same situation.
We all laughed as we reminisced and Hannah reminded me of the horrible squeaking sound the van made for several months after that; a noise I had to explain to my husband. I added to the conversation that we really were in danger. "If my rear tire had gotten stuck on the track, we might not be here laughing today," I said. The car fell silent for a moment before we resumed laughing. Since we didn't die we can laugh about mommy's Kermit the Frog imitation (of which I have greatly exaggerated). I am thankful for the guardian angels who saw fit to insure the tire came up over the rail.
We continued on our commute and came upon the back road snail train, which was doing its usual snickering. But we had the last laugh having left ten minutes early. I sat with less irritation than usual given the little walk through history.
Thank you, Lord, for every day I have the opportunity to be annoyed by a slow moving train.
Cheers,
Shai
As we progressed on our back road route we got in our usual random discussions, most of which I will spare you. Feel free to thank me. We are easily amused as a rule. The part of the conversation that spurs this blog is regarding the railroad crossing being worked on that necessitated our detour today.
You see, it has this handy turn at that intersection that is more like a pair of partially opened scissors rather than an even cross and traffic sometimes needs to make a turn across traffic where they can find space between oncoming cars. It isn't much different from any other lighted intersection other than being just plain awkward. A few years ago, we were doing our usual random chatting and laughing as we followed the line of traffic and suddenly someone made a last minute decision to turn across traffic and the flow of vehicles was such that they had to sit and wait. The person in front of me had to hit their breaks abruptly to avoid hitting the last minute lefty and conversely I had to stop quickly as well. This left me on the railroad tracks, which I never stop on for obvious reasons. The light turned red and we were stuck there. I began to explain to my children, as any good mother would, that parking on a railroad crossing is best avoided. Being on the tracks is in fact much less desirable than being from the wrong side of the tracks.
"It is very dangerous to park on railroad tracks, girls," I said in my usual school teacher/mom tone. "We can just be thankful today there is no...." ding ding ding ding. The lights on the crossing started to flash and the limbs began to come down. I looked to my left and there was, at some distance thankfully, the tell tale monster sized headlamp of a train. I did my best Kermit the Frog imitation, then instinctively, hit the gas and swerved around the car that had stopped in front of me and my rear wheel went off the edge of the pavement and slammed hard on the rail, but it went over. I had to pull way up a couple of car lengths to make room for the pickup truck that had gotten caught in the same situation.
We all laughed as we reminisced and Hannah reminded me of the horrible squeaking sound the van made for several months after that; a noise I had to explain to my husband. I added to the conversation that we really were in danger. "If my rear tire had gotten stuck on the track, we might not be here laughing today," I said. The car fell silent for a moment before we resumed laughing. Since we didn't die we can laugh about mommy's Kermit the Frog imitation (of which I have greatly exaggerated). I am thankful for the guardian angels who saw fit to insure the tire came up over the rail.
We continued on our commute and came upon the back road snail train, which was doing its usual snickering. But we had the last laugh having left ten minutes early. I sat with less irritation than usual given the little walk through history.
Thank you, Lord, for every day I have the opportunity to be annoyed by a slow moving train.
Cheers,
Shai
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