Pink Snow
I didn’t grow out of my fascination with trains. To this day, I still get excited when I see one and I also love to hear its lonesome whistle. But the one who actually witnessed the raw power of a train was my mom.
Back in the early eighties, she worked at a business in Powell that sat across the road from the railroad tracks. One day, she stepped out of the building and heard the loud revving of an engine. She looked toward where the train tracks crossed Emory Road and saw a delivery that was truck stuck on them. Yes, stuck.
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