A Dumb Idea (#13)
The true mark of a dumb idea is if you do something really dumb more than once.
Growing up, I was never too far from railroad tracks. Walking the rails was a great way to get from one end of town to the other without having to mess with traffic. Sure, you sometimes had to get over to let a train go by, but time was spent trying to throw rocks through open boxcars as the train zipped by.
This is a story about boxcars...
There was an elementary school on the other side of a big, community park that our backyard spilled into. I never went to the school, but some good friends did. The school had a reading program that went outside during nice weather. The school had an old boxcar (without wheels--it was flat on the ground) near the playground where teachers read to students. The boxcar was painted with big flowers that looked like something on the side of a hippie bus from the 60s. The boxcar was appartently not a big attraction when compared to tire houses and swing sets nearby because there wasn't much you could do with the boxcar except sit inside.
My friend, Matt, made the boxcar fun though. Matt could climb anything, so getting to the top of the boxcar was easy. He tied a thin rope to the top so the rest of us could scale the side of the boxcar like Batman climbing the side of a building. Matt was always the last one down; he pulled the rope to the top and climbed down with his spidermonkey skills.
The top of the boxcar was our domain--nobody else's!
Getting down from the top of the boxcar was like rapelling--only without safety gear. I was at the very top of the boxcar, leaning back and getting ready to climb down, when the rope broke. I landed on my tailbone in the hard grass.
It knocked the wind out of me and hurt like hell.
You would think, when the Soo Line railroad parked several boxcars and reefers on a vacant track near our houses and Matt climbed to the top with another thin rope so the rest of us could climb to the top of the boxcars, that I would have said, "Nope! I've fallen from one boxcar, and that boxcar wasn't even as tall as this one with wheels, parked on the tracks full of ballast."
But these are dumb ideas, and for all my self preservation instincts, sometimes adventure got the best of me.
I was at the top of a boxcar, getting ready to rapel down, just like I'd done on the boxcar at the elementary school. And just like the rope on the boxcar at the elementary school, the rope snapped!
It was definitely a Wile E. Coyote moment when the rope snapped. I seemed to hover in mid air, waving my hands and running in place. The only thing missing was a little sign reading YIKES!
Just like the boxcar at the school, I fell.
On my tailbone.
Only this time, I didn't land on hard grass. This time I landed on the hard rail!
I previously discussed the time I think I may have cracked my shin. I think I said that may have been the most pain I've ever been in. Thinking about it, landing on that rail with my tailbone from however tall the top of a boxcar on a track is, perhaps the fall from the wet monkeybars wasn't so bad after all.
I think the reason the fall from the train didn't hurt so bad is it instantly put me past pain. I just remember thinking, "My back is broken..." and rolling across all the rocks, down a small hill, and coming to rest in a soft bed of grass. I hurt too much to hurt. I don't remember much; maybe I was in shock.
Matt was right at my side, just like he was when I fell from the monkeybars. I don't know how long I stayed in the grass before I tried moving.
I don't know if I broke my tailbone. I hid the fall from family.
I wasn't about to tell my mom I was climbing on a parked train, and to make up a story about how I hurt myself...well, that comes back on you.
So, like most dumb injuries I got as a kid, I gritted my teeth and took the pain.
And I never went near a parked train again...
Growing up, I was never too far from railroad tracks. Walking the rails was a great way to get from one end of town to the other without having to mess with traffic. Sure, you sometimes had to get over to let a train go by, but time was spent trying to throw rocks through open boxcars as the train zipped by.
This is a story about boxcars...
There was an elementary school on the other side of a big, community park that our backyard spilled into. I never went to the school, but some good friends did. The school had a reading program that went outside during nice weather. The school had an old boxcar (without wheels--it was flat on the ground) near the playground where teachers read to students. The boxcar was painted with big flowers that looked like something on the side of a hippie bus from the 60s. The boxcar was appartently not a big attraction when compared to tire houses and swing sets nearby because there wasn't much you could do with the boxcar except sit inside.
My friend, Matt, made the boxcar fun though. Matt could climb anything, so getting to the top of the boxcar was easy. He tied a thin rope to the top so the rest of us could scale the side of the boxcar like Batman climbing the side of a building. Matt was always the last one down; he pulled the rope to the top and climbed down with his spidermonkey skills.
The top of the boxcar was our domain--nobody else's!
Getting down from the top of the boxcar was like rapelling--only without safety gear. I was at the very top of the boxcar, leaning back and getting ready to climb down, when the rope broke. I landed on my tailbone in the hard grass.
It knocked the wind out of me and hurt like hell.
You would think, when the Soo Line railroad parked several boxcars and reefers on a vacant track near our houses and Matt climbed to the top with another thin rope so the rest of us could climb to the top of the boxcars, that I would have said, "Nope! I've fallen from one boxcar, and that boxcar wasn't even as tall as this one with wheels, parked on the tracks full of ballast."
But these are dumb ideas, and for all my self preservation instincts, sometimes adventure got the best of me.
I was at the top of a boxcar, getting ready to rapel down, just like I'd done on the boxcar at the elementary school. And just like the rope on the boxcar at the elementary school, the rope snapped!
It was definitely a Wile E. Coyote moment when the rope snapped. I seemed to hover in mid air, waving my hands and running in place. The only thing missing was a little sign reading YIKES!
Just like the boxcar at the school, I fell.
On my tailbone.
Only this time, I didn't land on hard grass. This time I landed on the hard rail!
I previously discussed the time I think I may have cracked my shin. I think I said that may have been the most pain I've ever been in. Thinking about it, landing on that rail with my tailbone from however tall the top of a boxcar on a track is, perhaps the fall from the wet monkeybars wasn't so bad after all.
I think the reason the fall from the train didn't hurt so bad is it instantly put me past pain. I just remember thinking, "My back is broken..." and rolling across all the rocks, down a small hill, and coming to rest in a soft bed of grass. I hurt too much to hurt. I don't remember much; maybe I was in shock.
Matt was right at my side, just like he was when I fell from the monkeybars. I don't know how long I stayed in the grass before I tried moving.
I don't know if I broke my tailbone. I hid the fall from family.
I wasn't about to tell my mom I was climbing on a parked train, and to make up a story about how I hurt myself...well, that comes back on you.
So, like most dumb injuries I got as a kid, I gritted my teeth and took the pain.
And I never went near a parked train again...