The Train in the Distance

The blast of the train's 3 tone air horns sounds in the distance. At every road crossing a series of three deep signals go off. Spaced but a few seconds apart, it seems like the series of junctions are right on top of each other.

We are comfy and cozy tonight in our home with wheels. A term coined by our 5 year old niece this afternoon when she excitedly toured our motorhome. Declaring to her mother, if you work really, really hard we can have a home with wheels and I could fill the bedroom with all my toys and life would be grand. If only you and Dad would work really, really hard.

This weekend we took our maiden voyage. With a used RV that first outing brings out all the worry and concerns that everything will function properly. Will the drive train prove to be reliable, will all the appliances work as they should. I'm happy to report all is well, and we are truly happy with our home with wheels.

It is now about 5am and it has been raining gently for the past hour or so. All is dark, with the soon approaching dawn no where to be seen. A freight train just passed about a 1/4 mile away, sending its warning signal across the open fields of this mid-west farming community.

I'm an extremely early riser so I sit in solitude at the keyboard. Sipping my coffee, (really it's a coke because I don't drink coffee, but you get the picture) peering out the small window over the kitchen sink at the site marker for the campsite across the way.

The amber light on the post illuminates the number, site 140 out of some 300-400 sites that make up the Grand Casino Hinckley RV Resort. The furnace cycles for a few minutes as my wife snores softly in the background.

As I listen to the wail of the train I think back to about 1967. It was the maiden voyage of another sort. My father built our family RV from a retired 1955 ford school bus. Now you may think of a converted school bus as something rather crude, and not very comfortable as motorhomes go. Not this bus as my Dad was a true craftsman when it comes to working with wood.

Not many old school buses of the era had black walnut cabinetry and sleeping accommodations for eight people. Yes, our family of 7, plus one guest, did just fine with Pullman style beds that folded down for night and converted to sofas and dinettes during the day.

This first outing was a trip to Minneapolis. As it turned out it was one of only a few trips I made in the bus, as it was called. After spending frigid winter days, under the bus in the snow, helping to unbolt the seats from it's former life, and stoking the small wood stove that had been temporarily installed to heat the bus during construction through the winter of '67, I was soon to graduate high school and enter the military.

That first outing was an experience none of us soon forgot. After some hours of driving and with evening approaching we were in search of a suitable place to spend the night. Understand we were of pretty modest means in those days. We made the most of what we had, but finding a way to stretch a dollar was something I've carried with me all my life.

A few miles off the main highway, on a narrow country byway, Dad spotted a small pull off that would allow us to park in what appeared to be the middle of a corn field. No houses close by, in those days if you maintained a low profile no one objected to your camping on private property out in the middle of nowhere.

After supper we settled in for the night. The sounds of crickets, and the flicker of fireflies, entertaining us as we drifted off to sleep. Some hours later, as we all slept soundly away, the sound of a train whistle sounded in the distance. At every cross road it announced it's arrival as the sound grew louder each time.

The glow of its headlamp appeared from the east, again the warning sounded, this time even closer. We hadn't noticed any railroad tracks when we pulled off the highway, but as it appeared the train was coming our way they must be close.

The light got brighter and brighter, the warning horns blasted again and again. A look of concern appeared on more than one face in our early home with wheels. By now the light of the train filled the bus and everyone was sitting up in bed. The warning horn blared away, we could hear the sound of the diesel engines working and the steel wheels clacking as the ground began to shake. The train was coming as if it was going to come in through the windshield of the bus. Had we some how parked on the tracks?

With a loud swoosh, the engine passed by, no more than 10' away. We had parked parallel to the tracks without even seeing them. Not even noticing the simple wooden crossed arm signs on the road. In those days country crossings seldom had lights or arms that dropped to stop traffic.

The sound of our pounding hearts drowned out any noise the 1/2 mile long string of freight cars made as they rumbled off into the distance headed for the western plains.

It was good that the trip had such a memorable moment. I was shortly to become an adult, and go my own way in the world. The rest of the family had many more outings and experiences to remember in the old bus. I had but a few, but rest assured that one night has stuck with me for over 40 years, and to this day I keep trains in mind when I look for a way to go RVing On The Cheap.