|Andy and Agnes and Dad (standing) and me (sitting)|
Andy and Agnes came to visit us in Sultan when we moved there in 1965, and Andy and I went for a walk to explore some of the town. So what's a 57-year-old man going to do with a 16-year-old boy? Step out to the middle of a train trestle bridge and wait for a train to come, that's what. Two bridges cross the Sultan River where it runs into the Skykomish---one is the Highway 2 bridge, and south of it and parallel to it is a train bridge. The highway bridge has a sidewalk; the train bridge doesn't. Andy and I were talking about how we had never been on a train bridge while the train crossed it. How could we go on through life without experiencing this adventure?
|The Sultan Train Bridge|
The tremendously loud train charged onto the bridge, passing between the girders with a hundred cars. The bridge shook violently and I watched Andy avert his face from the wind while holding tightly onto the trembling metal. But I didn't watch long, for the bridge shook so much that I began hitting my head against the inside of the girder. It hurt, and it seemed like the train would never stop roaring across the bridge. I was literally beat up inside that girder I thought would protect me, while Andy was out there having a blast.
Afterwards, with our ears still ringing, the two of us had a great laugh as we walked the three blocks back to my house, despite my headache. Perhaps this was why, at work at the postal annex until I retired last March, I scoffed at my employer's constant reminders to "be safe." Sometimes we can be too safe.
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