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The Roving Cultural Review From West Central Ohio, Deep In The Heart Of French Territory Circa 1750
Although the dinning accommodations - a 1999 Saturn station wagon - were a bit confining, the alternative was being eaten alive by unidentified flying insects. We thus ate our lackluster pizza in relative comfort. The ambiance, however, was perfectly silly. Our evening included the observation of 6 trains, five at the intersection of choice and one from a bridge outside of Quincy. The first one was a westbound on the CSX line which our resident "expert" identified as a conventional cab SD60 followed by an SD40. The second train was identified as a "cow calf," although my brother later retracted that statement when he actually had to define what that meant. It was a ballast train (hoppers that are specifically designed to haul gravel), pulled by a GP38-2 followed by a GP38 road slug. This train happened through as we procured our second course - ice cream - from the store big enough for 4 people to stand in. This store rents videos and sells health-free food; it's vending machine contained 5 bags of potato chips and 2 rolls of Lifesavers. Our third train was a GE-9 and an SD45 with original GM&0 hopper cars. ADM cars and graffiti both seem to be "in" this year, as proven by 2 out of 3 trains observed on this particular evening thus far. At 8:15 the reviewer belched, and my brother was quoted as saying, "That there was even a train moving on the CSX line was rather remarkable indeed." The fourth train was a southbound on the Indiana and Ohio (formerly the DT&I). It was pulled by a GP40-2 (formerly L&N) which was burgundy and white. At this point the author, having exited the Saturn, found themselves being bitten by insects and returned henceforth to the sanctity to be found therein. At which point it was decided that darkness and fatigue were taking over, and we decided to depart for home. It was at this time that we saw the last train inside of Quincy proper. As we left, a C40-8 and SD40 combination crept up on us and held us hostage for another five minutes. At this point we headed home, tired from an exciting evening of watching trains. My brother makes sure that I have every model number written down correctly, so that my report might be as accurate as possible. We discuss the possible cultural impact of the railroading report on Newspoets, as there is a good chance that no one will know what we're talking about. Come to think of it, I don't really know what I'm talking about. My brother seems to know what he's talking about, and I don't know enough to know if he knows what he's talking about or not. As we sit on a bridge to watch the last train headed through Quincy that evening, we debate these topics and hope that no one flies around a corner and rear-ends us. We discuss our plans to go to the dump the next morning as we head home. Overall, I would rate the evening very highly, say 15 on a scale of 2, mostly because I get to hang out with Bruce and Polly only once or twice a year, and this was one of those times. Rail fandom seems to dwarf other types of fandom, making them seem less embarrassing.
Random factoid: Todd says that if you smear your face with eggs
before entering a protest where you're likely to get tear-gassed, the tear
gas will bond with the proteins in the eggs and help protect you from the
gas. If you can stand to do it, that is. His organic chemistry prof told
him that.
The author apologizes for the extremely late submission of this poem. She blames computer difficulties, and hopes that it provides a break from Post-Election News Addiction Disorder.
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