After we parked, we walked over and hung around the train yard a little bit - hoping (one of us was, anyway), to see a train go by. Off in the distance were the sounds of an engine idling, occasionally increasing, as if getting ready to leave - but nothing happened, at least not as long as we were standing there. So, we headed over to the bike path.
As we were walking over, I noticed a pair of broken sunglasses lying between a couple of the train tracks - and I commented to Sam how they must be all that’s left of someone who got hit by a train. I consider comments like these to be part of my obligation as a parent to put a spotlight on the dangers of ignoring common sense safety rules - especially at railroad yards.
Naturally, Sam has long since learned to ignore me when I say stuff like this, so we continued to the bike path where we also passed a tattered glove and then a flip flop - both of which obviously belonged to this same unsafe train observer. Sam ignored my comments about these as well.
The three of us walked down the bike path. Helaina lingered behind, snapping photos along the way. As Sam and I approached the iron foot bridge, we discussed whether we should attempt to cross over the bridge or not. Last year, we both agreed that something like that was nothing either one of us were interested in. For some bizarre reason, this year, we were actually considering it.
Technically speaking, there’s nothing wrong with the footbridge (that we know of). After all, it used to be a train bridge (back when it was built in 1880). The problem is that it’s, well, a bridge, and it’s a bridge that’s way up over the water and neither Sam nor I are a fan of heights or of water - though I suspect that if and when we fell from the bridge, we wouldn’t need to worry too much about the water.
But anyway, Sam said he was willing to try crossing it if I was, which, needless to say, kind of put me on the spot. I pretended like this was no problem, but I warned Sam that if I froze in the middle of the bridge, it would be up to him to run back and get Helaina and the two of them would have to find a crane that could lift me off. This, I felt, was teaching him the value of trust and of being responsible. As with my comments about the broken sunglasses, the glove and the flip flops, he ignored me.
I am happy to report that we made it across the bridge without any visible incidents, I kept my eyes focused dead straight ahead the entire time, while mentally reviewing my extremely brief obituary. Sam, for some god unknown reason, casually looked around as we went, even noticing stuff down in the water.
Safely on the other side, I told Sam that now all that we had to do was make it back - and if that seemed like a problem, I could send him back across the bridge with my car keys and he could have Helaina get my car and then drive to wherever it was that this bridge came out, and pick me up. This time he was listening, but he thought I was kidding.
We waited while Helaina snapped pictures as she strolled across the bridge - acting as if she was unaffected by the fact that she was walking on an old iron bridge which was built over 130 years ago.
Once she caught up, we briefly regrouped, some of us regained our composure, and then we all bravely headed back across the bridge together - which was slightly (very slightly) less uncomfortable than when we had crossed it moments earlier.
It was so slightly less uncomfortable that at one point, I even managed to divert my eyes long enough to look over the side of the 130 year old bridge, where I saw a couple of people foolishly “relaxing” by the side of the river. I made some comment about it to Helaina, which I can’t remember, but it was enough to indicate to her that crossing this potential death trap was no big deal to me.
Back on the other side, Sam and I headed up the path, towards the train yard. Helaina continued along behind us, snapping pictures the entire way.
Safely back at the car, we made a brief stop at the grocery store, then we all headed home.
Later, I fell asleep on the couch.
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