Lucky Hit 24

I can remember at least 100 times, as a child, maturing up just south of the tracks, when Russell and me would be sprinting for our lives, or so we would imagine. The freight yards jumbled with all different types of people and trucks, mostly hanging around to get loaded with all the stuff that came off the trains. There was a lot going on within this place, at least for most the day, to keep a hundred guys hoping making a living.

Russell’s pops was one of them and my dad used to be also. The train kit air horns from the locomotives would alarm in a chain of blasts and the trucks wouldn’t be far behind, as if to say yea, yea we hear ya. I always wondered if those series of air horns blasting from the trains was signal for anything, or just some irritating wake up call to stir the dock hands.

You know, I mean, they squandered a bundle of time talking about what must have been adult stuff until those air horns sounded off, then like bees from a agitated hive, they would leap to the most adjacent job to do and be doing all motivated like.

I’m positive we had better stuff to do than look at them buzz around, but it absolutely was a kick in the pants, and we would imagine they were our soldiers, or maybe our laborers of some sort, you know when your a master or a General or something, you had to have people to do what you said, right?

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