Railroad magic recalled

Dreams change, but love lasts

The plan was simple in concept and brilliant in design. Under cover of darkness, I would go to the railroad crossing at Main Street. The early morning train always slowed to a crawl as it passed near the commercial area of town. There I would slip unnoticed into one of the open boxcars and settle in for my adventure. I figured I would ride about 20 miles or so then jump off whenever it slowed for another crossing. Life on the rails! There was just one problem with my plan. At 8 years old, how could I get my mom to take me downtown that early? As you may have deduced by now, I’ve always had a thing about trains.

It’s easy to pinpoint the beginning of my love affair with locomotives. It all started on a family vacation to Blowing Rock, N.C., when I was 6 years old. It was there my parents took my brother, sister and me to the Tweetsie Railroad amusement park. It was love at first sight. Locomotive No. 12 was a 4-6-0 coaled-fired steam-powered beauty built in 1917 that had carried passengers and freight for the ET&WNC rail line from Johnson City, Tenn., to Boone, N.C. Saved from the scrap heap by Gene Autry, the engine ended up in Blowing Rock as an exciting adventure ride which featured a 3-mile journey through the mountains and culminated with a holdup by a band of real Wild West outlaws. It was the most exciting adventure of my life to that point! To this day, I can still hear that high, piercing, lonesome steam whistle echoing in my ears. I was hooked.

With real-time experience under my belt, I yearned to repeat the adventure. When my father would wait at railroad crossings, I would watch the open boxcars and dream of hopping on to visit towns I had only heard about. Naturally I asked for a train set that next Christmas — and to my delight got an HO scale set of the Santa Fe Flyer. That would be the center of many boyhood adventures. On TV there was a series called “Iron Horse” starring Dale Robertson, who played a man who ran a train he won in a poker game. I never missed an episode. I also plotted a return trip to my beloved Tweetsie Railroad but alas that was not to be. The Santa Fe had to make do for a while.

As time passed, I had new dreams, but you never forget a first love. I bought Johnny Cash’s version of “Orange Blossom Special” as well as Arlo Guthrie’s “City of New Orleans” and made a point to see them both performed live. The song “Desperadoes Waiting on a Train” still chokes me up. After my daughters were born, they became regulars on the Frisco Silver Dollar steam train. And yes, I held their hands when those same outlaws tried to rob it in broad daylight. There were other trains on family trips. The love was passed on.

Three years ago, my wife and I went to visit another couple in New Orleans at Christmastime, and they took us to City Park which was alight up with spectacular Christmas lights. There they had a miniature holiday train which was loaded with families with young children taking a night-time ride around the park. Noticing my nostalgic gaze, my friend said, “Hey, why don’t we all ride it now?” And as I closed my eyes for a moment in that cool night air while the little whistle blew, I was connected once again to a little boy’s dreams, sitting in a boxcar on the Cotton Belt, keeping a sharp eye out for outlaws. Did I mention I still have a thing about trains?