Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
The most funnest thing EVER!
Well, if you're a kid--after you get to be an adult, it drops down to about Number Two.
Anyway, by some bold stroke of fortune, I actually managed to get the kids out of the house on time this morning, and just as we had gotten down to the bottom of the hill and over the bridge and out onto Main Street and were waiting at the traffic light, I heard that lonesome whistle. (More like an impassive, droning honk.)
It was the 7:00 a.m. eastbound express freight about to blow through town. "I hear a TRAIN, kids!" The light changed and I took off, intent on pacing it down the road (and equally intent on not getting a speeding ticket--the speed limit is 35, after all). I had to wind it up to exactly 50, and for the next mile or two we stayed even with the lead locomotive (out of four--it's a long train), much to the delight of the munchkins in the backseat, who took turns screaming "HELLOOOOO SOO-SOO SWAIN!!", even though they are well past the stage at which babytalk is acceptable, and the only person who could hear them was me. (Of course, they were only saying it that way because I got them started.)
We ran right along as the train blasted through crossings at top speed as it blew long, continuous blasts on the horn. We finally had to let it go when we got stopped by the traffic light at Camp Coleman Road.
Such fun--like having your very own full-size Lionel set.
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