The Small Things

Just makeing the train.

As I have indicated before, on good mornings I drive my Jazzy power chair up to my train stop, I bet it is about a mile the trip is 6 Salt Lake blocks. Mind you it is my understanding that Utah blocks are some what larger then usual city blocks..something to do with Brigham Young’s thought process when laying out the county in the “old days.” So I figure it’s about a mile or so. The trip is not bad and not too dangerous. Dianne has my chair will marked with reflective tape. I bet many people in the dark morning hours think I am a URO (Unidentified Rolling Object). Well, this morning I crashed out of the house about 0625 and headed full bore to the stop. I have to cross the tracks about mid-point at 5900 south then it is straight shot to the train station at 6400 south. I am traveling North-bound into the city. I have found that the South-bound train passes comes into the station on the South track eight minutes before my train arrives. So when I am bounding South on 3rd West and the South bound flashes past I know I have eight minutes before the next City bound train arrives. So today just as I cross the RR tracks the train passes Southbound. I start my “One, one thousand, two, one thousand…” . The morning is still dark at this point in time. I have to keep an eye not only on traffic from the rear but oncoming traffic as well. Luckily, I am out early enough there is still very little traffic of any kind. I have the road to myself—I fly pass the industrial shops, cross the bridge hugging the side lane—I refuse to use the sidewalks on the side of the bridge they are narrow, very narrow and greatly slows my progress. At the far end of the bridge I am at “6, one thousand”. I am pleased. I have clear view down the tracks at this point and if the train is on it’s way you can see the lights way off in the distance. You have about three minutes when you can see the first light of the approaching train. At “6.one thousand thirty five. I fly over the tracks again at the train station—I know I can make it at this point in time. I make it. I make the train Northbound. It’s a little thing I know, I know there will be another train if I don’t make it—but I DID make it…it make me think back when I could run I mean physically run and I would run all the way to John Cantrell’s house to catch the bus about a mile and a half across at least of acres of pasture. I was winded, cold and my side often hurt but I made the run with out stopping and I made the bus. That was 40 some years ago, I have been in my chair 40 years this coming July. For some reason the feeling is the same…