Trains are massive, powerful and move all kinds of stuff across this city and region. We’ve all been stuck in our vehicles while waiting for one to ramble across the road we’re traveling. Most of us complain about it because in many cases they seem to be moving at a pace slower than we can walk. Sitting on a bicycle at one of the crossings is a much different experience than waiting in a car at a crossing.
- Chrysler – Jefferson Assembly Plant R.R. Yard
Being so close to these monsters of commerce, one of the first things I’ve noticed is the sheer size and variety of cars that make up a train. We’ve all seen them passing by, but probably haven’t looked closely at what makes up a train. There are vandal-proof stainless steel sided cars that protect the autos they are carrying, as well as cars stacked with auto parts on their way to some manufacturing facility on Mack Avenue. You’ll also see tankers on their way to a downriver refinery carrying liquids with hazardous material signs attached, rusty open top cars, brown box cars and those carrying passengers. Many have been tagged by graffiti artists, which begs the question, who tagged these cars and where? Did some artists slip into a train yard in Phoenix or Kansas City and after many hook-ups, their art finally made it to a Detroit neighborhood? Or were they tagged in a rail yard near Flint? It does make me wonder.
- Graffiti Covered Car
The sounds of a train are incredible when next to one. I noticed the variety of sounds they generate a couple of days ago when I rode my bike to the Michigan Central Railway Tunnel entrance that runs under the Detroit River to Windsor. I was able to get quite close to a freight train pulling a hundred plus cars that was making its way into the tunnel to Canada. The initial horn blasts from the lead engine was deafening. Those blasts were followed closely by the constant hum of the steel wheels riding on the steel tracks. There’s also the endless clicking noise as the wheels hit the seams where the rail sections meet each other. Mix in the rich, squeaking sounds of the shifting cars and you have a symphony built around commerce. Quite an experience.
As I Lay Dying
I just finished reading As I Lay Dying, a 1930 novel written by William Faulkner, and I’m not sure what I read. The book is relatively short and lean by Faulkner standards. It follows a family’s journey from a small Mississippi farm to the county seat where the family matriarch, Addie, wishes to be buried upon her death. The book is written from the point of view of fifteen assorted family members and acquaintances, each having dedicated chapters throughout. Faulkner describes Addie’s last days, how family members construct her casket, place her in it and load it on a wagon hooked up to mules. The loaded wagon, manned by her husband and children, strike out across the county to the county seat for her burial. The trip took about nine days and along the way they struggled with many obstacles such as a flooded river crossing where they lose the mules, a son’s broken leg and a fire in a barn where the casket was stored for a night.
Although the chapters were short, many seemed to ramble. Others seemed unrelated to the story, which was a bit confusing. I’d reread certain chapters a couple of times to help me understand what was going on, and yet I was still often perplexed. After completing the book, I did a little research and found that this book is important because it is one of the first ever written using a “stream-of-consciousness” narrative. Basically, a story written from fifteen view points. That explained a lot. I was also surprised that this book is frequently ranked among the best 20th century novels. I’m not sure I agree, but I haven’t read many stream-of-conscious novels, and I assume the ranking is based on this writing style.
I read As I lay Dying in College. I thought it was an intersting book….It took place in the South during I think the 1920′s? Poor People’s struggle to bury their grandmother. Didn’t they end up losing the body? Which was sort of a symble for the decay of the South after the War of Sucession?
Yes, they did temporarily lose the body when the cart tipped over while crossing the river. They pulled it out and continued on their journey to the cemetery where she was buried. I guess it could be symbolic of the South’s decay.
Those freight trains passing by, instill a fear in me that runs through my bones. I can’t even imagine being trackside on a bicycle. The thought gives me the willys!
Ya Mike, it is a bit unsettling at times, especially when those monsters are clipping along at a good pace. But there is a certain rhythm that’s calming (if that makes sense).
you could say “as i lay dying” is more of a prose poem than straight narrative novel…the trick is to listen, read a passage or two out loud…remember think southern, i.e.: oral tradition…its a bit of a tall tale, bit of a malarial fever dream, yes?
Interesting approach jerome. I never thought of looking at it as a prose poem, makes sense now that you pointed it out. It is kind of a dreamy story.
Charlie
the sound of trains in the night are haunting, they ring of distance, of all those miles calling me, like a siren call enticing me to travel…woody guthrie…shucks, it reminds me of my dad: when i would hitchike in the longdead 1970′s, and call my mom from philly, then d.c., then somewhere in the hills of virginia my mother gave me a rather startling admonishment, “there you go hobo-ing, just like your father”. turns out my father had ridden the rails many times downsouth, long before he was a married man, ages before i was born…this was a secret i treasured, my father having passed before i was two years old. her train story added another layer to his myth & at the same time peeled one away. distant trains sound like waves, like memory, like longing…
Wow Jerome, that’s a touching story. Thanks for sharing.
Although haunting, the sound of a train in the night sparks a certain calmness in me that is almost hypnotic. Much like Detroit and the people living here, trains are resilient. They keep rolling along, to some unknown destination, no matter how many twists and turns are thrown their way.
Charlie
Z man — Your posts make me want to saddle up…keep them coming…I think you have something here. Are you going to launch into some Detroit personalities that you meet along the way?
Years ago when I worked for GM…I would see the darndest vehicles driving around early in the morning…you know the ones… old models in disrepair with all the reflectors and lights and widgets and their drivers all pride puffed.
Of course, there was always the guy who spent the night sleeping on the gravel in my parking space across woodward.
I had to honk him from sleep every morning and he would thank me for tipping him (every man needs a cup of Joe or something else in the morning) for saving the spot that I had already paid for.
He is just one of my stories.
Hi Dave-
Great parking space story!
Yes, I hope to write about some of the unusual characters I’ve encountered while cycling in the D. Stay tuned!
Charlie