Junto Magazine Vol2_Issue2 - Page 56

Junto Magazine, Volume 2 Issue 2 They were a little hesitant, but I got Dale and the boys up on the embankment a little after 4:15. Steve was sitting on a rail in front of his apparatus. It made me nervous. “Get down in the tall grass so we won’t attract any attention,” he told us. Probably because everyone was con- fused about what was happening, they did as he instructed. Then Steve looked down the tracks and got off the rail. He sat down in the yellowing grass and told us how much fun it would be to ride The 400 to Minneapolis. “Think about it,” he said. “A mile a minute. All that speed and magnificence with a whole neighborhood on board. Then we arrive in Minneapolis in the evening, a completely different city!” One of the boys interrupted him to an- nounce, “A train is coming!” We sat up and saw the headlight get- ting bigger and heard the rumbling of the engine growing louder. When the train was less than a half-mile down the track, Steve jumped over the rail, stretched out on his stomach, slipped his legs un- der the inner tube, and held onto the rod. We were frozen as we watched what was happening. The horn of The 400 broke into a loud howl of sustained warning as the loud rumbling of the engine rapidly approached where Steve lay. Sparks were flying off the wheels from the brakes as the train flew over him. Dale stood up with a loud terrified scream that blended into the squealing sound of the brakes. We could see Steve hanging on in the space between the trucks under each coach as it passed. When I learned about Bernoulli’s Principle in physics class few years later, I wondered how Steve had known about it. The train slowed to a stop a mile down the tracks. Steve got his legs out from under the inner tube band, stood up a bit dazed, and told us, “Get the hell outta here.” As we all ran down the embankment, Dale ran after Steve, hitting him in the back, pounding with both fists shouting, “Asshole, bastard, son of a bitch, you scared the hell outta me.” He was laugh- ing as she chased him. The next day police detectives were questioning people in the neighborhood. None of the kids “knew” anything. How- ever, somehow, Dale’s father found out about the stunt and he absolutely forbid her from spending any more time with Steve. I told Steve that Dale’s father’s an- ger would blow off, but during the time Dale was obeying him, I got the opportu- nity to play pinball at Sid’s with her a few times. She always got a higher score and I praised her skill. She smiled when I did this. But shortly after school was out that summer, her family moved to one of the distant suburbs. When the group of guys she was talking with in the lounge at the Drake was breaking up, I walked over to Dale and introduced myself. After a moment, she recognized me. “Marty, what a nice coincidence af- ter all these years,” she said with a warm smile. “ Are you here for the convention?” I asked. “Yes, I’ve been in data processing for about a year now. I needed a job, an- swered an ad, and fell into the business. They liked me so they trained me.” “I can unde '7FBvFWƖV@R( 6BFV7VvvW7FVBvRfRvg&ЧFR&"6vR6VBFƲvR6B6V6B6RFBRW"6'VBv