I like trains.  Of the Lionel variety.

Once the gates went up the driver ahead of me could’ve made better time walking.  The guy had Kansas plates.

The big ones always seem to be in my way.  I’ve frequently attempted to leave for work early in order to get a jump start on the day only to find myself waiting at a grade crossing.  One morning, it was a full 17 minutes.  Considering building bridges to carry trains above us is too costly for local budgets and an underground path is out of this world.

I’ve been told trains crossing at grades have a limited time to clear the path, according to law.  Routinely, it appears to be ignored.  Also, I suppose we don’t want to complain about the economic impact of rail yards but let’s be honest; it’s not like the railroad will pick up its tracks and move.

This morning, I watched as one last rail car sat halfway into the street for several minutes.  I could see the road ahead but was blocked.  Once the gates went up, the driver ahead of me could’ve made better time walking.  The guy had Kansas plates.  Apparently, they don’t know about snow in Topeka.

Then, coming home a train came along just after I crossed the tracks.  I was hoping to make a left turn but the traffic across the intersection stopped.  The guy in the left-hand lane ahead of me sat and watched until the light turned back to red.  I have to admit, sadly, by then it was also the color of my face.  My language was blue.