When my husband and I moved into our house beside the railroad tracks on Bear Poplar Road, we were sometimes teased we lived on the wrong side of the tracks. I must tell you now, we are not on the wrong side because our property is on both sides. Living here for 27 years has been interesting, as we have witnessed many unusual events.
The first event happened about 25 years ago and was kind of funny. One summer afternoon I heard a knock at my front door. When I looked out the window, I saw a car parked at the edge of the yard. I opened the door, and a man said, ěMaíam, do you mind if I get my boat back?î I looked at him thinking he was a little confused. I didnít have his boat, or know anything about his boat. He then explained, ěYou see, maíam, when I came across the railroad tracks my boat came loose from the hitch and went across your yard.î
Little did I know, at the time, the boat barely missed the corner of my house. The man pointed to the side of the house, so I went around the corner to take a look. There sat his boat in my backyard under the apple tree. I couldnít help but laugh. Of course, the poor guy wasnít laughing. I felt sorry for him, so I let him have his boat back.
Another event happened a few years after the boat incident. It was a Saturday morning, and I noticed a train had stopped at the crossing. About 10 minutes after that, I heard a knock at the door. I knew it was probably something relating to the train, and sure enough, the engineer asked to use my telephone. I thought to myself, ěThereís something wrong with this picture.î I know what you must be thinking. Iím going to let a stranger in my house? What else was I going to do? This was before cell phones, and I couldnít let the train sit on the tracks forever. So, I let the engineer use the phone. He thanked me, and then he went to wait in his train until help arrived.
Unfortunately, people have been killed at this crossing, but Iím happy to say thatís not happened since the lights and arms were put in place. Before they were installed, there was one close call I remember like yesterday. My two daughters were playing outside, and I was in the den reading the newspaper. I could see out the window and noticed the train had stopped. Kristin and Kelly came running in the house yelling, ěWe almost had hamburger in our yard.î
My neighbor later told me the rest of the story. A truck was coming down the road at the same time the train was blowing its whistle, but the driver didnít hear. A neighbor, Darcy Myers Ward, was walking down the road and saw the truck wasnít slowing down, so she began waving her arms, screaming, ěTrain! Train!î Thetruck driver slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop about two inches from the train. The engineer stopped, too, because he thought he had hit the truck. Darcy saved not only the truck driverís life, but also the cows he was pulling. The man thanked Darcy for saving his life and took her family out for a meal.
The railroad has been an important part of our nationís past, and it seems will be an important part of the future. Even though most trains passing by my door are freight trains, itís still kind of a romantic notion to think about where they have been and where they are going. Occasionally, there are passenger trains, and for a shared moment as they pass by, thereís a connection, and then theyí re on their way. Perhaps living beside a railroad track is not something you envision for your family, but for us itís just right. Someday, I may actually buy a ticket and take a train ride. I hear the ride to the mountains in the fall is beautiful.

Dicy McCullough, a writer and poet, lives in Rowan County. Contact her at 704-278-4377 or at dicymcculloughbooks.com.