I would dream about trains too. One dream had me standing in my grandmother's kitchen, in the center of a Stonehenge-like ring of Coldspot refrigerators, as a malevolent Santa Fe Chief passenger train circled around in the kitchen, trying to find a way to get to me inside the ring. Sometimes the dream trains were friendlier, and would pluck me up, drop me into the engine, and take me for rides. My father was in his Freudian phase at this time and he carefully explained that the dream meant I wanted to go back to the womb. Even then, I thought this interpretation was strange. My father offered this interpretation at other times too. No matter what happened in my dream life, my dad heard the siren song of the womb.
My dad also told various stories about the rails. His dad had been a section chief on the Santa Fe railroad and had been awarded a fancy watch for spotting a locked bearing and stopping a train before disaster ensued. My dad told about how cars and trucks would sometimes stall on the tracks and get clobbered. Crossing the rails in a vehicle made me anxious, certain as I was that the vehicle would stall.
I wasn't allowed to leave my grandmother's yard, but the kid next door was allowed to. I wanted to test out something my dad said about a strong wind right at wheel level as the train passed. I asked the kid to place a piece of paper right next to the rail and place a rock on top, in order to see if the wind would rip out the piece of paper. The kid instead put the paper and the rock right on top of the rail. I panicked and fled to the opposite side of the house as the train approached, certain as I was that the train would derail. But a simple rock is no match for a locomotive. I presume it was instantly pulverized.
Anyway, the video shows that little has changed in the intervening 65 years in Bernalillo, at least concerning trains. The power remains awesome!
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