TRAINing the imagination

When did you last watch a train go by and wonder its contents? What did you picture inside each car? Who might be conducting such a long, winding, gargantuan snake of a vehicle down thin strips of metal?

These questions only came to me through a friend’s eyes that were seeing an American train up close and personal for the first time. Growing up in an area where trains passed through on a daily basis, the fascination of a train had escaped me many years ago. Plus I outgrew the Boxcar Children book series a while back. But my new Malawian friend peppered me with questions. And we came up with some great possibilities to the former questions.

The large boxcars concerned my friend. Really anything could be in there, she thought. And who’s to say why not? I told her all sorts of material such as coal (as energy products) and even animals travel in such cars. While riding her bike she so expertly started to jostle about as if the vibrations of the train were affecting her. In a shaky voice she said, “Can you imagine a poor cow on such a ride. Poor thing. Cows in Africa are never treated this way.” To that I could only reply with a chuckle and comeback question. “Do you mean to tell me your cows travel on couches, getting their hooves painted and drinking chai tea?” She laughed, “Of course.”

Many of the cars on the train were black barrels. When asked, I could only guess what was in them- natural gas, propane, or some other liquid/gaseous “energy” products. I’ve since learned that tanker cars (the proper name for the black barrels) coming through Spokane hold just such substances and are even proposed as training tools for haz. mat. specialists. Eek!
But another image popped into my head. They’re huge licorice treats. Giants use straws made from hallowed out trees to suck out the licoricey juice. Sometimes if the Giants are being naughty they’ll spit the juice like a spitball. This sticky mess actually finishes a lot of highway construction projects without using so much tar.

Finally the driver, aka conductor, came to our conversation. My friend thought it must be the most difficult of jobs, pull all of those cars and driving the winding trail. Indeed, it would be hard putting it that way. I thought the Flintstones had it rough, running in order for their cars to move, but pulling a train is too much. Then somehow the image of the car became tiny or the hand guiding it as if it were a toy train was giangumbous, and I marveled at the smooth movement of it all.

My friend helped me see the ordinary with a childlike imagination. Writing a children’s book is on my bucket list. Such a world as she helped foster offers fertile imaginary ground.